Текст песни McIhatton - Christy Moore
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
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