The Waterboys - The connemara fox

^EThere's a man on the ru^E7n ^E6 And he's never been caught ^EHe moves at the speed ^{E7 E6}

And he carries the n^Aews In a gleam of his eye That what you've been ^Etold

His e^Cnemies number fallen priests M^Aen of power and the crooked police ^GCynics from the skool of hard knocks And a ^Amotley crowd of mis-matched other old crocks Who're never ever gonna ^E7catch

They chased him in ^ECong They missed him in ^EMaam He was already gone^E Never giving a damn^E Wanted dead or a^Alive Up the back of of Dog's ^ABay But by the time they ar^Erived He was leagues away^E

In an o^Cyster bar playing dominoes And the ^Aonly clues he left his foes Were a ^Gfistful of dust, a change of the locks The word^As of a Kris Kristoffersen song, a pair of old socks And graffiti saying^E so long, suckers Love, the Connemara^E Fox

He was in Bunnah^Eown On the day of the f^Eair When ship-like clou^Eds Sailed the summer a^Eir And a bodhran thump^Aed And a saxophone pla^Ayed As the people jumpe^Ed And danced at the s^Eide of the bay

They sa^Cy he had long elegant fingers And when^A he was gone magic lingered A bolt ^Gof love that stopped the clocks From the^A village lane where the washing hung to the city blocks The name on every t^Eongue Was the Connemara F^Eox

He left a diktat ^E On the priest's win^Edow sill It said "Crough Paa^Eaatrick, Sonny Is the paganest hil^El In the whole lump of^A Ireland It shone with green^A light That's why they bur^Eied its power Under Christian rit^Ees

And tha^Ct bogus name to which it never belonged That you^A can't even rhyme in a spell or a song You're ^Gtrying to put life back into the box" And the ^Apriest ran out with a scream in the night in his cap and frocks He never even caugh^Et sight Of the Connemara Fo^Ex

He'll be where there is ^Emusic He'll be where there is ^Ecrack He'll be howling the ^Eblues In the yard out ^Eback He'll be down in the ^ACladdagh Playin' pitch and ^Atoss He says guilt's an imp^Eoster, baby You been double-c^Erossed

And jus^Ct when you think you've got him pegged All you'^All see are the backs of his legs A shad^Gow passing way over the rocks A w^Aisp of hair, a ghostly snatch of the sound of a box No one's ever gonna ^Ecatch The Connemara F^Eox

The Connemara ^EFox The Connemara ^EFox The Connemara ^EFox The Connemara ^EFox