Hills of Connemara CHORUS: Gather up the pots and the old tin cans, The mash, the corn, the barley, and the bran. Run like the Devil from the excise man. Keep the smoke from rising, Barney! Keep your eyes well peeled today, The excise man is on his way, Searching for the mountain tay, In the hills of Connemara. CHORUS A gallon for the butcher and a quart for the tum, A pint for poor old Father Tom, To help the poor old man along, In the hills of Connemara. CHORUS Now swing to the left; now swing to the right, The excise man can dance all night, Searching for the tay till the broad daylight, In the hills of Connemara. CHORUS Stand your ground; now, don't you fall, The excise man is at the wall. JESUS CHRIST!  HE'S DRINKING IT ALL! In the hills of Connemara. CHORUS