歌曲 | Mcilhatton |
歌手 | Christy Moore |
专辑 | Ride On |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
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" | |
McIlhatton you blurt we need you, cry a million shaking men | |
Where are your sacks of barley, will your likes be seen again? | |
Here's 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 | |
There's 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 | |
McIlhatton you blurt we need you, cry a million shaking men | |
Where are your sacks of barley, will your likes be seen again? | |
Here's 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 | |
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 | |
McIlhatton you blurt we need you, cry a million shaking men | |
Where are your sacks of barley, will your likes be seen again? | |
Here's 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 | |
McIlhatton you blurt we need you, cry a million shaking men | |
Where are your sacks of barley, will your likes be seen again? | |
Here's 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 |
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" | |
McIlhatton you blurt we need you, cry a million shaking men | |
Where are your sacks of barley, will your likes be seen again? | |
Here' s a jig to the man and a reel to the drop and a swing to the girl he loves | |
May your fiddle play and poiti n cure your company up above | |
There' s a wisp of smoke to the south of the Glen and the poiti n 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 | |
McIlhatton you blurt we need you, cry a million shaking men | |
Where are your sacks of barley, will your likes be seen again? | |
Here' s a jig to the man and a reel to the drop and a swing to the girl he loves | |
May your fiddle play and poiti n cure your company up above | |
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 | |
McIlhatton you blurt we need you, cry a million shaking men | |
Where are your sacks of barley, will your likes be seen again? | |
Here' s a jig to the man and a reel to the drop and a swing to the girl he loves | |
May your fiddle play and poiti n cure your company up above | |
McIlhatton you blurt we need you, cry a million shaking men | |
Where are your sacks of barley, will your likes be seen again? | |
Here' s a jig to the man and a reel to the drop and a swing to the girl he loves | |
May your fiddle play and poiti n cure your company up above |
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" | |
McIlhatton you blurt we need you, cry a million shaking men | |
Where are your sacks of barley, will your likes be seen again? | |
Here' s a jig to the man and a reel to the drop and a swing to the girl he loves | |
May your fiddle play and poití n cure your company up above | |
There' s a wisp of smoke to the south of the Glen and the poití n 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 | |
McIlhatton you blurt we need you, cry a million shaking men | |
Where are your sacks of barley, will your likes be seen again? | |
Here' s a jig to the man and a reel to the drop and a swing to the girl he loves | |
May your fiddle play and poití n cure your company up above | |
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 | |
McIlhatton you blurt we need you, cry a million shaking men | |
Where are your sacks of barley, will your likes be seen again? | |
Here' s a jig to the man and a reel to the drop and a swing to the girl he loves | |
May your fiddle play and poití n cure your company up above | |
McIlhatton you blurt we need you, cry a million shaking men | |
Where are your sacks of barley, will your likes be seen again? | |
Here' s a jig to the man and a reel to the drop and a swing to the girl he loves | |
May your fiddle play and poití n cure your company up above |