McIlhatton

Bobby Sands

In Glenravel's Glen there lives a man whom some would

call a god

For he could cure your shakes with a bottle of his

stuff would cost you thirty bob

Come winter, summer, frost all over, a jiggin' Spring

on the breeze

In the dead of night a man steps by, "McIlhatton, if

you please"

CHORUS

McIlhatton you blurt we need you, cry a million shaking

men

Where are your sacks of barley, will your likes be seen

again?

Heres a jig to the man and a reel to the drop and a

swing to the girl he loves

May your fiddle play and poitín cure your company up

above

Theres a wisp of smoke to the south of the Glen and the

poitín is on the air

The birds in the burrows and the rabbits in the sky and

there's drunkards everywhere

At Skerries Rock the fox is out and begod he's chasing

the hounds

And the only thing in decent shape is buried beneath

the ground

CHORUS

At McIlhatton's house the fairies are out and dancing

on the hobs

The goat's collapsed and the dog has run away and

there's salmon down the bogs

He has a million gallons of wash and the peelers are on

the Glen

But they'll never catch that hackler cos he's not

comin' home again

CHORUS X 2