The Irish Rovers - Mountain TayLyrics

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 Keep your eyes well peeled today The big, tall men are on their way Searching for the mountain tay In the hills of Connemara Mountain breezes as they blow Hear their echo in the glen below The gombeen 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 his prayers and hymns along In the hills of Connemara Stand your ground boys, it's too late The excise men are at the gate Glory be to God, but they're drinking it straight In the hills of Connemara 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