A Bucket of Mountain Dew

Let grasses grow and waters flow in a free an easy way But give enough of the rare old stuff that's made near Galway Bay And policemen all from Donegal Sligo and Leitrim too We'll give them the slip and we'll take a sip of the real old Mountain Dew.

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 poitin boys close by. For it fills the air with a perfume rare; and betwixt both me and you As home we roll, we can drink a bowl; or a bucketful of Mountain Dew.

Now learned men as use the pen; have writ the praises high Of the rare poitin from Ireland green; distilled from wheat and rye Away with yer pills, it'll cure all ills; be ye Pagan, Christian or Jew So take off your coat and grease your throat; with a bucketful of Mountain Dew.
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