The Rare Ould Mountain Dew


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

Hi the diddley-i-dillum, diddley-doodle-i-dillum, diddley-door-i-diddley-i-day,
Hi the diddley-i-dillum, diddley-doodill-i-dillum, diddleey-doori, diddley-di-day.

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, 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 bucket of the Mountain Dew

Hi the diddley-i-dillum, diddley-doodle-i-dillum, diddley-door-i-diddley-i-day,
Hi the diddley-i-dillum, diddley-doodill-i-dillum, diddleey-doori, diddley-di-day.

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

Hi the diddley-i-dillum, diddley-doodle-i-dillum, diddley-door-i-diddley-i-day,
Hi the diddley-i-dillum, diddley-doodill-i-dillum, diddleey-doori, diddley-di-day.

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