The Rare Auld Mountain Dew
Oh, let the grasses grow and the waters flow, in a free and easy way
But give me enough of the rare old stuff, that's made near Galway Bay
Come gaugers all from Donegal, Sligo and Leitrim too
And we'll give them the slip and we'll take a sip
Of the rare old Mountain Dew
Skiddly-diddly-idle-um
Skiddly-doodle-idle-um
Skiddly-doo-ri-diddlum-deh
Skiddly-diddly-idle-um
Skiddly-doodle-idle-um
Skiddly-doo-ri-diddlum-deh
There's a neat little still at the foot of the hill
Where the smoke curls up to the sky
By a whiff of the smell you can plainly tell
That there's poteen brewin' nearby
For it fills the air with a perfume rare
And betwixt both me and you
As home we roll, we'll take a bowl
Or a bucket-full of the Mountain Dew
Skiddly-diddly-idle-um
Skiddly-doodle-idle-um
Skiddly-doo-ri-diddlum-deh
Skiddly-diddly-idle-um
Skiddly-doodle-idle-um
Skiddly-doo-ri-diddlum-deh
Now learned men who use the pen
Have written your praises high
Of sweet poteen from Ireland green
Distilled from wheat and rye
Go away with your pills, it'll cure all ills
Of pagan, Christian or Jew
Take off your coat and grease your throat
With a bucket-full of Mountain Dew
Skiddly-diddly-idle-um
Skiddly-doodle-idle-um
Skiddly-doo-ri-diddlum-deh
Skiddly-diddly-idle-um
Skiddly-doodle-idle-um
Skiddly-doo-ri-diddlum-deh
Let the grasses grow and the waters flow, in a free and easy way
But give me enough of the rare old stuff, that's made near Galway Bay
Come gaugers all from Donegal, Sligo and Leitrim too
And we'll give them the slip and we'll take a sip
Of the rare old Mountain Dew
Skiddly-diddly-idle-um
Skiddly-doodle-idle-um
Skiddly-doo-ri-diddlum-deh
Skiddly-diddly-idle-um
Skiddly-doodle-idle-um
Skiddly-doo-ri-diddlum-deh
Skiddly-diddly-idle-um
Skiddly-doodle-idle-um
Skiddly-doo-ri-diddlum-deh
Skiddly-diddly-idle-um
Skiddly-doodle-idle-um
Skiddly-doo-ri-diddlum-deh
But give me enough of the rare old stuff, that's made near Galway Bay
Come gaugers all from Donegal, Sligo and Leitrim too
And we'll give them the slip and we'll take a sip
Of the rare old Mountain Dew
Skiddly-diddly-idle-um
Skiddly-doodle-idle-um
Skiddly-doo-ri-diddlum-deh
Skiddly-diddly-idle-um
Skiddly-doodle-idle-um
Skiddly-doo-ri-diddlum-deh
There's a neat little still at the foot of the hill
Where the smoke curls up to the sky
By a whiff of the smell you can plainly tell
That there's poteen brewin' nearby
For it fills the air with a perfume rare
And betwixt both me and you
As home we roll, we'll take a bowl
Or a bucket-full of the Mountain Dew
Skiddly-diddly-idle-um
Skiddly-doodle-idle-um
Skiddly-doo-ri-diddlum-deh
Skiddly-diddly-idle-um
Skiddly-doodle-idle-um
Skiddly-doo-ri-diddlum-deh
Now learned men who use the pen
Have written your praises high
Of sweet poteen from Ireland green
Distilled from wheat and rye
Go away with your pills, it'll cure all ills
Of pagan, Christian or Jew
Take off your coat and grease your throat
With a bucket-full of Mountain Dew
Skiddly-diddly-idle-um
Skiddly-doodle-idle-um
Skiddly-doo-ri-diddlum-deh
Skiddly-diddly-idle-um
Skiddly-doodle-idle-um
Skiddly-doo-ri-diddlum-deh
Let the grasses grow and the waters flow, in a free and easy way
But give me enough of the rare old stuff, that's made near Galway Bay
Come gaugers all from Donegal, Sligo and Leitrim too
And we'll give them the slip and we'll take a sip
Of the rare old Mountain Dew
Skiddly-diddly-idle-um
Skiddly-doodle-idle-um
Skiddly-doo-ri-diddlum-deh
Skiddly-diddly-idle-um
Skiddly-doodle-idle-um
Skiddly-doo-ri-diddlum-deh
Skiddly-diddly-idle-um
Skiddly-doodle-idle-um
Skiddly-doo-ri-diddlum-deh
Skiddly-diddly-idle-um
Skiddly-doodle-idle-um
Skiddly-doo-ri-diddlum-deh
Credits
Writer(s): Peter Spider Stacey, Dubliners The, Darryl Gatwick Hunt, Philip Chevron, Terry Woods, James Thirkhill Fearnley, Andrew David Ranken, Jeremy Max Finer, Shane Patrick Lysaght Macgowan
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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