My Wild Irish Rose                          

If you listen, I'll sing you a sweet little song
Of a flower that's now drooped and dead,
Yet dearer to me, yes, than all of its mates
Tho' each holds aloft its proud head.
T'was given to me by a girl that I know,
Since we've met, faith, I've known no repose,
She is dearer by far than the world's brightest star,
And I call her my wild Irish Rose.

Refrain:

My wild Irish Rose,
The sweetest flow'r that grows,
You may search ev'rywhere
But none can compare
With my wild Irish Rose.
My wild Irish Rose,
The dearest flow'r that grows
And some day for my sake, she may let me take
The bloom from my wild Irish Rose.

They may sing of their roses which, by other names,
Would smell just as sweetly, they say,
But I know that my Rose would never consent
To have that sweet name taken away.
Her glances are shy whene'er I pass by
The bower, where my true love grows;
And my one wish has been that some day I may win
The heart of my wild Irish Rose.

My Donegal Shore


Oh I know it’s not right, reminiscing tonight
Of the days that are gone and returning no more
For the girl I dream of, has a another mans love
Far, far away on a Donegal shore

But why should I care for she’s  happy o’er there
She may have children, she may be wealthy or poor
But I can’t help my dreams of what might have been
If I stayed at home on my Donegal shore

Now it’s winter time there, all the trees will be bare
And the rainclouds will darken my native Gweedore
But if that girl I could hold every raindrop would be gold
It could fall all around us on my Donegal shore

Turnaround

Now there’s none to blame but before she took his name
When she told me she loved him, it hurt to the core
But I could never descend, to be only her friend
So I left her there on my Donegal shore

Now it’s winter time there, all the trees will be bare
And the rainclouds will darken my native Gweedore
But if that girl I could hold, every raindrop would be gold
It could fall all around us on my Donegal shore

But if that girl I could hold, every raindrop would be gold
It could fall all around us on my Donegal shore

My old man's a provo 

My old mans a provo with a beret and a gun 
I havent seen him lately hes always on the run 
He looks really trendy in his shades and DM boots 
Far cooler than them other dads in ties and shirts and suits

The brits and police ask me, each time that I go out 
They ask me if I seen me da or if he's been about 
I say 'mind your own business,now just leave me alone 
You shower are only jealous, you've no fathers of your own!'' 

On RTÉ last Friday night, a cop came on to say,
"Please give us information, about the IRA"
They showed a provo unit on security tv
I know that was me da', for he stopped and waved at me

At Christmas time its lonely when daddys not at home
The police are watching everywhere they've even tapped our phone 
Last Christmas Eve they staked out our windows and our doors 
Then climbing down the chimney came a provo santa clause 

My daddys up in long kesh now to me its just not right 
I say a special prayer for him when i got to bed at night 
Today it was his birthday I sent him in a cake 
There was cemtex in the candles he'll be out before i wake!!!

 MONTO 
(George Hodnett) 

Well, if you've got a wing-o, take her up to Ring-o 
Where the waxies sing-o all the day; 
If you've had your fill of porter, and you can't go any further 
Give your man the order: "Back to the Quay!" 

cho: And take her up to Monto, Monto, Monto 
Take her up to Monto, lan-ge- roo, 
To you! 

You've heard of the Duke of Gloucester, the dirty old imposter 
He got a mot and lost her, up the Furry Glen. 
He first put on his bowler and he buttoned up his trousers, 
And he whistled for a growler and he says, "My man" 
Take me up to etc. 

You've heard of the Dublin Fusileers, the dirty old bamboozileers, 
They went and got the childer, one, two, three. 
Oh, marching from the Linen Hall there's one for every cannonball, 
And Vick's going to send them all, o'er the sea. 
But first go up to etc. 

Whcn Carey told on Skin-the-goat, O'Donnell caught him on the boat 
He wished he'd never been afloat, the filthy skite. 
It wasn't very sensible to tell on the Invincibles] 
They stood up for their principles, day and night. 
And they all went up to... 

Now when the Czar of Russia and the King of Prussia 
Landed in the Phoenix Park in a big balloon, 
They asked the polismen to play "The Wearin' of the Green" 
But the buggers in the depot didn't know the tune. 
So they both went up to etc. 

Now the Queen she came to call on us, she wanted to see all of us 
I'm glad she didn't fall on us, she's eighteen stone. 
"Mister Melord the Mayor," says she, "Is this all you've got to 
show me?" 
"Why, no ma'am there's some more to see, Pog mo thoin!" 
And he took her up etc. 

MERCHANT AND THE BEGGAR WENCH, THE 

Come all ye jolly plooman lads, 
And I'll tell you a tale 
As merry a tale as ere befell 
A merchant's son in the north did dwell 
And for a living he was forced to sell. 

cho: Lillie fal de dal, lillie fal de day 

He's ta'en wi' him as we are told 
The sum of five hundred pounds in gold 
And on the road he chanced to spy 
A beggar wench with a rolling eye. 

She asked him for some relief 
With smiles of sorrow and tears of grief 
She said I've neither house nor home 
And for living I'm forced to roam 

If ye would tell to me your name 
And where is the country to which ye belong 
If ye wi me this nicht would lie 
I would wi money you supply. 

She wisna lang ere she gave consent 
And so this two to the inn they went 
The landlord laughed to see him kiss 
A beggar wench in a ragged dress. 

He callcd for brandy of the best 
Brought by the landlord in great haste 
They drank it out in bumpers three 
The jolly beggar wench and he. 

And after that the sipper dressed 
Brought by the lady in great haste 
And after that they went to bed 
But the merchant slept as if he were dead. 

So in the morning the beggar rose 
A@d dressed himself in the merchant's clothes 
She's ta'en his watch, and his gold likewise 
And she went away with the golden prize. 

She's left nothing in the room 
But a ragged petticoat and a goon 
Bits of bread and tobacco too 
And she's went away with the golden shoe 

She down the stair like a spirit flew 
Ten guineas to the landlord threw 
She's never been heard of until this day 
Lillie fal de dal, lillie fal de day. 

In the morning the merchant rose 
And dressed himself in the beggar's clothes 
And on the road he cursed and swore 
He would never lie wi' a beggar more. 

MARY ANN  

Some boyos when they go out courtin' 
Sure they haven't the spunk of a mouse 
They'll stand on the corner and whistle 
They're afraid to go into the house 
But I walk in the kitchen with me swagger 
As if the whole place were me own 
And I sit meself down with, "Good evening, 
How are you, old Mother Malone?" 

So I kissed the old woman and hugged the old man 
Gave Johnny a dollar and I shook hands with Dan 
Fight for his sister, I'll do all I can, I'll do all I can 
And then I'll walk out with me girl, Mary Ann 

Well, I'd only been courting her a fortnight 
When her heart and her hand, I had won 
So the next night I went to the cottage 
The old woman, she called me "her son" 
So I asked the old man for his daughter 
His son-in-law, soon I would be 
And he says, "on me soul, Pete McNulty, 
You can have both me daughter and me" 

MICHAEL COLLINS 

The bark of a dog breaks the silence like a bitter last hurrah 
And a raven spreads it's wings for flight over fields near Beál Na mBláth 
With a rifle still clasped to his breast, but hanging low his head 
A black August day in the County Cork, Michael Collins is dead 

Hang out your brightest colours, his memory now recall 
Each one wants a part of him but no-one wants it all 

Working over in London town when he joined the I.R.B. 
Sworn to use, both, deadly force, his native land to free 
His squad is ready and willing to strike, his love for his ruthless charm 
The Laughing Boy smiles at the castle, it's a smile to cause alarm 

Chorus 

A British intelligence agent is working from a Dublin room 
Michael Collins adds a name to a list that will take men to the tomb 
A spy slowly rises from his chair and walks across the floor 
A man with a parabellum is knocking at the door 

Chorus 

Returning then to London town, who will take the blame? 
The Treaty lies before him, Michael Collins adds his name 
A darker time lies across the land, who will bear the load? 
An awkward hero in an armoured car on an Irish country road 

Chorus 

The bark of a dog breaks the silence like a bitter last hurrah 
And a raven spreads it's wings for flight over fields near Beál Na mBláth 

MacNAMARA'S BAND

Oh, me name is MacNamara I'm the leader of the band
Although we're few in numbers we're the finest in the land
We play at wakes and weddings and at every fancy ball
And when we play at funerals we play the March From Saul

Chorus: Oh, the drums go bang and the cymbals clang
And the horns they blaze away
McCarthy pumps the old bassoon while I the pipes do play
And Hennessey Tennessee tootles the flute
And the music is something grand
A credit to old Ireland is MacNamara's band

Right now we are rehearsin' for a very swell affair
The annual celebration - all the gentry will be there
When General Grant to Ireland came, he took me by the hand
Says he,"I never saw the likes of MacNamara's band"

Oh! My name is Uncle Yulius and from Sweden I have come
To play with MacNamara's band and beat the big bass drum
And when I march along the street  The ladies think I'm grand
They shout "There's Uncle Yulius playing with an Irish band"

Oh, I wear a bunch of shamrocks and a uniform of green
And I am the funniest lookin' Swede that you have ever seen
There's O'Briens and Ryans and Sheehans and Meehans
they come from Ireland, But by yimminy
I'm the only Swede in MacNamara's band

MACUSHLA
(Josephine Rowe/Dermot MacMurrough)

Macushla! Macushla! Your sweet voice is calling
Calling me softly again and again
Macushla! Macushla! I hear its dear pleading
My blue eyed Macushla, I hear it in vain

Macushla! Macushla! Your white arms are reaching
I feel their enfolding caressing me still
Fling them out from the darkness, my lost love
Macushla, let them find me and bind me again if they will

Macushla! Macushla! Your red lips are saying
That death is a dream and love is for aye
Then awaken Macushla, awake from your dreaming
My blue eyed Macushla, awaken to stay

THE MEMORY OF THE DEAD 

Who fears to speak ok ninety-eight? 
Who blushes at the name? 
When cowards mocked the patriots fate 
Who hangs his head, for shame? 
He's all a knave or half a slave 
Who slights his country thus 
But true men like you men 
Will fill your glass with us 

We drink the mem'ry of the brave 
The faithfull and the few 
Some lie far off beyond the wave 
Some sleep in Ireland too 
And all are gone but still lives on 
The fame of those who died 
All true men like you men 
Remember them with pride 

Some on the shores of distant lands 
Their weary hearts are laid 
And by the stranger's heedless hands 
Their lonely graves were made 
But tho' their clay be far away 
Beyond the Atlantic foam 
In true men like you men 
Their spirit's still at home 

The dust on some is Irish earth 
Among their own they rest 
And the same dear land that gave them birth 
Has caught them to her breast 
And we will pray that from their clay 
Full many a race shall start 
Of true men like you men 
To act as brave a part 

They rose in dark and evil days 
To right their native land 
And they kindled here a living blaze 
That nothing shall withstand 
Alas that might can vanquish right 
They fell and passed away 
But true men like you men 
Are plenty here today 

Then here's to their memory may it be 
To us a guiding light 
To cheer our strife for liberty 
And teach us to unite 
Tho' good and ill be Ireland still 
Tho' sad as theirs your fate 
And true men like you men 
Like those of ninety-eight 

MAID WHO SOLD HER BARLEY, THE

It's cold and raw, the north winds blow
Black in the morning early
When all the hills were covered with snow
Oh then it was winter fairly
As I was riding o'er the moor
I met a farmer's daughter
Her cherry cheeks and coal-black hair
They caused my heart to falter

I bowed my bonnet very low
To let her know my meaning
She answered with a courteous smile
Her looks they were engaging
"Where are you bound my pretty maid
It's now in the morning early?"
The answer that she gave to me
"Kind sir, to sell my barley"

"Now twenty guineas I've in my purse
And twenty more that's yearly
You need not go to the market town
For I'll buy all your barley
If twenty guineas would gain the heart
Of the maid I love so dearly
All for to tarry with me one night
And go home in the morning early"

As I was riding o'er the moor
The very evening after
It was my fortune for to meet
The farmer's only daughter
Although the weather being cold and raw
With her I thought to parlay
The answer that she gave to me
"Kind sir, I've sold my barley"

MAN FROM THE DAILY MAIL, THE

Now Ireland's a very funny place, sir
it's a strange and a troubled land
and the Irish are a very funny race, sir
every girl's in the Cumann na mBan
Every doggie wears a tri-coloured ribbon tied firmly to its tail
and it wouldn't be surprising if there'd be another rising,
said the man from the Daily Mail

Chorus:
Every bird, upon my word is singing 'treble! I'm a rebel!'
every hen it's said is laying hand grenades over there sir! I declare Sir!
And every cock in the farmyard stock crows in triumph for the Gael
and it wouldn't be surprising if there'd be another rising,
said the man from the Daily Mail

Now the other day I travelled down to Clare, sir
I spied in an old boreen a bunch of busy gooses there, sir
dressed in orange, white and green
They marched to the German goose step as they whistled Grann na bheal
and I'm shakin' in me shoes as I'm sending out the news,
said the man from the Daily Mail

Chorus

Slow verse (almost spoken):
Now the whole place is seething with sedition,
it's Sinn Fein through and through
All the peelers they are joining local units
and the password's Sinn Fein too
Every doggie wears a tri-coloured ribbon tied firmly to its tail
and it wouldn't be surprising if there'd be another rising,
said the man from the Daily Mail

MANY YOUNG MEN OF TWENTY

Many young men of twenty said goodbye
All that long day
From break of dawn until the sun was high
Many young men of twenty said goodbye

My boy Jimmy went that day
On the big ship sailed away
Sailed away and left me here to die
Many young men of twenty said goodbye

I met my love upon the mountain Rim
The day he left
I knew I bore a living child of him
I knew I bore a living child of him

And the child was born to me
Jimmy's gone across the sea
Jimmy's gone and here alone am I
Many young men of twenty said goodbye

My Jimmy said he'd sail across the sea
He swore his oath
He'd sail back home one day and marry me
He'd sail back home one day and marry me

But my Jimmy let me down
Now they mock me in the town
Oh my Jimmy please come back to me
Oh my Jimmy please come back to me

Many young men of twenty said goodbye
All that long day
From break of dawn until the sun was high
Many young men of twenty said goodbye

They left the mountains and the glens
The lasses and the fine young men
I saw the tears of every girl and boy
Many young men of twenty said goodbye

MC ALPINE'S FUSILIERS

As down the glen came McAlpine's men with their shovels slung behind them
It was in the pub that they drank their sub or down in the spike you'll find them
We sweated blood and we washed down mud with quarts and pints of beer
But now we're on the raod again with McAlpine's Fusiliers

I stripped to the skin with Darky Finn down upon the Isle of Grain
With Horseface Toole I learned the rule, no money if you stop for rain
For McAlpine's god is a well filled hod with your shoulders cut to bits and seared
And woe to he who looks for tea with McAlpine's Fusilers

I remember the day that the Bear O'Shea fell into a concrete stair
What Horseface said, when he saw him dead, well it wasn't what the rich call prayers
"I'm a navvy short" was his one retort that reached into my ears
When the going is rough, well you must be tough with McAlpine's Fusiliers

I've worked till the sweat near had me beat with Russian, Czech and Pole
At shuttering jams up in the hydro dams or underneath the Thames in a hole
I grafted hard and I got me cards and many a ganger's fist across me ears
If you pride your life, don't join, by Christ, with McAlpine's Fusiliers

MEETING OF THE WATERS, THE

There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet
Oh! The last rays of feeling and life must depart
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart

Yet it was not that nature had shed o'er the scene
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green
'Twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hill
Oh, no! It was something more exquisite still
Oh, no! It was something more exquisite still

'Twas that friends, the belov'd of my bosom were near
Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear
And who felt how the best charms of nature improve
When we see them reflected from looks that we love
When we see them reflected from looks that we love

Sweet vale of Avoca! How calm could I rest
In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best
Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace

MEET ME AT THE PILLAR 

I was walking down by Islandbridge, just doing as I pleased 
This April day the sun was warm, there was but a gentle breeze 
I wandered up the old stone steps into Phoenix Park 
To watch the children laugh and play in the hours before the dark 
I strolled up by the monument and lay down on the ground 
Then people started crying when they heard the battle sound 
I don't know what came over me, but for a moment I could hear 
The echo of a soldier's voice that kept calling in my ear 

Meet me at the Pillar son, meet me there at noon 
I need you brave young Irishmen, there is something we must do 
Meet me at the Pillar son, still it's not too late 
It's time to sing a Freedom's song, come soon I cannot wait 

I turned around to see this man, but nobody was there 
In the distance I could hear the drums, yet a stillness filled the air 
I closed my eyes and in my dreams a soldier I could see 
He said his name was Pádraig Pearse, and he kept on calling me 
That awful night I lay awake and many times I cried 
I could not answer his commands, no matter how I tried 
There in the dark I did my best to say a silent prayer 
That when they take him to his fate, he'll know how much I cared 

Chorus 

MEN BEHIND THE WIRE, THE

Chorus:
Armored cars and tanks and guns came to take away our sons!
But every man must stand behind the men behind the wire!

Through the little streets of Belfast, in the dark of early morn
British soldiers came a-running, wrecking little homes with scorn
Hear the sobs of crying children, dragging fathers from their beds
Watch the scenes as helpless mothers watch the blood fall from their heads

Chorus

Not for them a judge or jury, nor for them a crime at all
Being Irish means they're guilty, so they're guilty one and all
Around the world the truth will echo: Cromwell's men are here again!
England's name again is sullied in the eyes of honest men

Chorus

Proudly march behind our banner; proudly march behind our men!
We will have them free to help us build a nation once again!
Come the people, step together, proudly, firmly on your way
Never fear and never falter, till the boys come home to stay!

Chorus

MEN OF THE WEST, THE

When you honor in song and in story
The names of the patriot men
Whose valor has covered with glory
Full many a mountain and glen
Forget not the boys of the heather
Who rallied their bravest and best
When Ireland was broken in Wexford
And looked for revenge to the West

Chorus:
I give you the gallant old West, boys
Where rallied our bravest and best
When Ireland lay broken and bleeding;
Hurrah for the men of the West!

The hilltops with glory were glowing
'Twas the eve of a bright harvest day
When the ship we'd been wearily waiting
Sailed into Killala's broad bay
And over the hills went the slogan
To awaken in every breast
The fire that has never been quenched, boys
Among the true hearts of the West

Chorus

Killala was ours ere the midnight
And high over Ballina town
Our banners in triumph were waving
Before the next sun had gone down
We gathered to speed the good work, boys
The true men from near and afar
And history can tell how we routed
The redcoats through old Castlebar

Chorus

And pledge me the stout sons of France, boys
Bold Humbert and all his brave men
Whose tramp, like the trumpet of battle
Brought hope to the drooping again
Since Ireland has caught to her bosom
On many a mountain and hill
The gallants who fell, so they're here, boys
To cheer us to victory still

Chorus

Though all the bright dreamings we cherished
Went down in disaster and woe
The spirit of old is still with us
That never would bend to the foe
And Connacht is ready whenever
The loud rolling tuck of the drum
Rings out to awaken the echoes
And tell us the morning has come

Chorus

MERRY PLOUGHBOY, THE 
(Dominic Behan)

I am a merry ploughboy boy, and I'm here to sing to you
And in case you didn't know it, I'm Irish thru and thru
No matter where I chance to roam, over land or sea or sky
Beneath the orange, white and green, for Ireland, boys, I'll die!

CHORUS:
We're off to Dublin in the green, in the green
Where the helmets glisten in the sun
Where the bayonets flash and the rifles crash
To the echo of a Thompson gun

I am a merry ploughboy and I ploughed the fields all day
Till a sudden thought came to my head that I should roam away
For I'm tired of civilian life since the day that I was born
So I'm off to join the IRA and I'm off tomorrow morn

Alternate chorus:
And we're off to Dublin with the green on the green
And the bayonets glitterin' in the sun
And the Tans they fly like lightnin' from
The rattle of me Thompson gun!

I'll leave aside my pick and spade, I'll leave aside my plough
I'll leave aside my old grey mare, no more I'll need them now
And I'll leave aside my Mary, she's the one that I adore
I wonder if she'll think of me when she hears the rifles roar

I'll take my Sharps revolver and my bandolero so
And with my comrades by my side, we'll fight a foreign foe!
I had a girl I left behind, and her name was Mary, dear
And I hope that she proves true to me whenever I'm not near
And when the war is over and dear old Ireland's free
I'll take her to the church to wed and a rebel's wife she'll be

MICHAEL COLLINS
(Derek Warfield)

Come listen all me true men to my simple rhyme
For it tells of a young man cut off in his prime
A soldier and a statesman who laid down the law, and
To die by the roaside in lone Beal na Blath
When barely sixteen to England crossed o'er
For to work as a boy in a government store
But the Volunteers call he could not disobey
So he came back to Dublin to join in the fray

Chorus:
At Easter nineteen sixteen when Pearse called them out
The men from the Dublin battalion roved out
And in the post office they nobley did show
How a handful of heros could outfight the foe

To Stafford and jails transported they were
As prisoners of England they soon made a stir
Released before Christmas and home once again
He banded old comrades together to train
Dáil Éireann assembled, our rights to proclaim
Suppressed by the English you'd think it's a shame
How Ireland's best and bravest were harried and torn
From the arms of their loved ones and children newborn

For years Mick eluded their soldiers and spies
For he was the master of clever disguise
With the Custom House blazing she found t'was no use
And soon Mother England had asked for a truce
Oh when will the young men a sad lesson spurn
That brother and brother they never should turn
Alas that a split in our ranks 'ere we saw
Mick Collins stretched lifeless in lone Beal na Blath

Oh long will old Ireland be seeking in vain
Ere we find a new leader to match the man slain
A true son of Grainne his name long will shine
O gallant Mick Collins cut off in his prime

MINSTREL BOY, THE

The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone
In the ranks of death you will find him
His father's sword he hath girded on
And his wild harp slung behind him
"Land of Song!" said the warrior bard
"Tho' all the world betrays thee
One sword, at least, they rights shall guard
One faithful harp shall praise thee!"

The Minstrel fell! But the foeman's chain
Could not bring that proud soul under
The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again
For he tore its chords asunder
And said "No chains shall sully thee
Thou soul of love and brav'ry!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free,
They shall never sound in slavery!"

MO GHILE MEAR

Seal da rabhas im' mhaighdean shéimh
'S anois im' bhaintreach chaite thréith
Mo chéile ag treabhadh na dtonn go tréan
De bharr na gcnoc is i n-imigcéin

 'Sé mo laoch, mo Ghile Mear
 'Sé mo Chaesar, Ghile Mear
 Suan ná séan ní bhfuaireas féin
 Ó chuaigh i gcéin mo Ghile Mear

Bímse buan ar buaidhirt gach ló
Ag caoi go cruaidh 's ag tuar na ndeór
Mar scaoileadh uaim an buachaill beó
'S ná ríomhtar tuairisc uaidh, mo bhrón

Ní labhrann cuach go suairc ar nóin
Is níl guth gadhair i gcoillte cnó
Ná maidin shamhraidh i gcleanntaibh ceoigh
Ó d'imthigh uaim an buachaill beó

Marcach uasal uaibhreach óg
Gas gan gruaim is suairce snódh
Glac is luaimneach, luath i ngleo
Ag teascadh an tslua 's ag tuargain treon

Seinntear stair ar chlairsigh cheoil
's líontair táinte cárt ar bord
Le hinntinn ard gan chaim, gan cheó
Chun saoghal is sláinte d' fhagháil dom leómhan

Ghile mear 'sa seal faoi chumha
's Eire go léir faoi chlócaibh dubha
Suan ná séan ní bhfuaireas féin
Ó luaidh i gcéin mo Ghile Mear

MOLLY MALONE 

In Dublin's fair city where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone
As she wheels her wheel barrow through the streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive alive-o

Chorus:
Alive alive-o, alive alive-o
Crying cockles and mussels alive alive-o

She was a fishmonger but sure 'twas no wonder
For so were her father and mother before
And they both wheeled their barrow
through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive alive-o

She died of a fever and no one could save her
And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone
But her ghost wheels her barrow
through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive alive-o

MOUNTAIN TAY, THE

Chorus:
Gather up the pots and the old tin cans
The corn, the mash, the barley and the bran
Run like the devil from the excise man
Keep the smoke from rising, Barney

Swing to left swing to the right,
The excise men will dance all night,
Drinkin' up the tay till the broad daylight
In the hills of Connemara

Oh the excise men are on their way
They're hunting all around for the mountain tay
Oh they won't go away for the devil of a day
In the hills of Connemara

Chorus

Oh here's a bottle for Uncle Tom
And here's a gallon for Father John
To help the poor old dear along
Through the hills of Connemara

Well, stand your ground for it's too late
The excise men are at the gate
Oh, glory be to Jesus, they're drinking it straight
In the hills of Connemara

Chorus

MOUNTAINS OF MOURNE

Oh, Mary, this London's a wonderful sight
With people here working by day and by night
They don't sow potatoes, nor barley, nor wheat
But there' gangs of them digging for gold in the streets
At least when I asked them that's what I was told
So I just took a hand at this diggin' for gold
But for all that I found there I might as well be
Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea

I believe that when writin' a wish you expressed
As to how the fine ladies in London were dressed
Well, if you believe me, when asked to a ball
Faith, they don't wear a top to their dresses at all.
Oh, I've seen them myself and you could not in truth
Say if they were bound for a ball or a bath
Don't be startin' them fashions now, Mary Macree
Where the mountains of Mourne sweep out to the sea

You remember young Peter O'Loughlin, of course
Well, now he is here at the head of the force
I met him today, I was crossing the Strand
And he stopped the whole street with a wave of his hand
And there we stood talkin' of days that are gone
While the whole population of London looked on
But for all these great powers he's wishful like me
To be back where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea

There's beautiful girls here, oh, never you mind
With beautiful shapes nature never designed
And lovely complexions all roses and cream
But O'Loughlin remarked with regard to the same
That if at those roses you ventured to sip
The colors might all come away on your lip
So I'll wait for the wild rose that's waitin' for me
Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea