Gather up the pots and the auld tin can
The mash, the corn, the barley and the bran
Run like the divil from the excise man
Keep the smoke from risin' Barney
Keep your eyes well peeled today
The tall, tall men are on their way
Searchin' for the mountain tay
In the hills of Connemara
Mountain breezes as they blow
Hear them echo in the hills below
The big tall men are on the go
In the Hills of Connemara
A gallon for the butcher, a quart for Tom
A bottle for poor old Father John
To help the poor old dear along
In the hills of Connemara
Stand your ground for it is too late
The excise men are at the gate
Glory be to Heaven but they're drinkin' it nate
In the hills of Connemara
Swing to the left and swing to the right
The excise men will dance all night
Drinkin' up the tay 'til the broad daylight
In the hills of Connemara
