The Real Old Mountain Dew

Let grasses grow
And Waters flow
In a free and easy way.
But give me enough
Of the finer stuff,
That's made near Galway Bay.
And peelers all,
from Donegal,
Galway and Leitrum too.
We'll give them the slip
and we'll take a sip
of the real old mountain dew.

At the foot of the hill
There's a neat little still
Where the smoke curls up to the sky.
By the smoke and the smell
you can plainly tell
That there's poteen brewing nearby.
For it fills the air
With odor rare
And betwixt both me and you,
When home you roll
You can take a bowl
Of the real old mountain dew

Now learned men
Who use the pen
Have wrote your praises high.
This sweet poteen
From Ireland's green
Distilled from Wheat and Rye.
Throw away your pills
It'll cure all ills,
Be you Pagan, Christian, Jew.
Take off your coat
And free your throat
With the real old mountain dew
Hi the diddly idle um diddly doo idle um, diddly doo rah diddly-i-day
Hi the diddly idle um diddly doo idle um, diddly doo rah diddly-i-day