Let grasses grow and waters flow in the free and easy way

But give me enough of the fine old stuff that's made to soothe the day

Come one and all and heed the call of people old and new

We'll take the slip as we take a sip of the rare old mountain dew

On the foot of the hill there's a neat little still with the smoke curling up to the sky

By the mist and the smell you can plainly tell there's somethin' brewing nearby

It fills the air with auld and rare betwixt both me and you

When home you toll you can take a bowl or a bucket of the mountain dew

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Diddly-do-di-diddly-di-day

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Now gather men who use that pen to write their praises high

It's sweet poitin from Ireland green distilled from wheat and rye

Throw away your pills, it cures all ills of pagan or christian or jew

Take off that coat and grease your throat with the rare old mountain dew

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Diddly-do-di-diddly-di-day

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