Tekst Utworu

More Sharing ServicesShare Hi-the-diddley-I-dill-dum, diddley-doodle-I-dill-um, diddley- doo-ri-diddley-di-day Hi-the-diddley-I-dill-um, diddley-doo-dill-I-dill-um, diddley- doo-ri-diddley-di-day Let grasses grow and waters flow in a free and easy way But give me enough of the fine ould 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 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 painly tell, that there's poteen brewing nearby It fills the air with odour rare and betwixt both me and you When home you stroll, you can take a bowl or a bucket of the mountain dew Now learned men who use the 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
Writer(s): Traditional, Tommy Scott Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out