Mountain Dew - The Blarney Lads

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

But give me enough of the fine old stuff that’s made near Galway Bay

And policemen all from Donegal, Sligo and Leitrim, too

We’ll give them the slip when we take a sip of the real old mountain dew

Hi-di-diddley-i-dum, diddley-dum-di-dum, diddley-dum-di, diddley-i-day

Hi-di-diddley-i-dum, diddley-dum-di-dum, diddley-dum-di, diddley-i-day

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 an odor rare that betwixt both me and you

When home you stroll, take a bucket or a bowl of the real old mountain dew

Hi-di-diddley-i-dum, diddley-dum-di-dum, diddley-dum-di, diddley-i-day

Hi-di-diddley-i-dum, diddley-dum-di-dum, diddley-dum-di, diddley-i-day

Now learned men who use a pen have wrote your praises high

That sweet poteen from Ireland green, distilled from wheat and rye

Throw away your pills, it will cure all ills of pagan, Christian or Jew

Take off you coat and grease your throat with the real old mountain dew

Hi-di-diddley-i-dum, diddley-dum-di-dum, diddley-dum-di, diddley-i-day

Hi-di-diddley-i-dum, diddley-dum-di-dum, diddley-dum-di, diddley-i-day

Hi-di-diddley-i-dum, diddley-dum-di-dum, diddley-dum-di, diddley-i-day

Hi-di-diddley-i-dum, diddley-dum-di-dum, diddley-dum-di, diddley-i-day