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Hills of Connemara 
Hills of Connemara 
Gather up the pots and the old tin can The mash, the corn, the barley and the bran Run like the devil from the Excise man Keep the smoke from rising Barney. 
Swing to the left and swing to the right. The Excise men will dance all night. Drinking up the tay till the broad daylight In the hills of Connemara. 
A gallon for the butcher, a quart for Tom, A bottle for poor old Father Tom To help the poor old dear along In the hills of Connemara. 
Stand your ground, it is too late The Excise men are at the gate Glory be to Paddy, but they're drinking it nate. In the hills of Connemara. 
From Soodlum's Irish Ballad Book: (According to this book, it's a song about the production of "illicit" alcohol -- poteen, as it's called -- and the attempt by the Excise men to control it.) VM 
VM OCT98