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Let grasses grow & waters flow in a free & easy way
But, give me enough of the fine, old stuff that's made near Galway Bay
And, policemen all from Donegal, Sligo & Leitrim too
We'll give them a slip & we'll take a sip of the real old mountain dew
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At the foot of the hill,
There's a neat little still where the smoke curls up to the sky
By the smoke & the smell,
You can plainly tell that there's poteen brewing nearby
It fills the air with outdoor rare that betwixt both me & you
When home you stroll,
You can take a bowl & a bucket of the mountain dew
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Now learned men who used a pen have wrote your praises high
That sweet poteen from Ireland green distilled from wheat & rye
Throw away your pills,
It will cure all ills, be a pagan, christian or jew
Tear off your coat and grease your
Throat with the real old mountain dew
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Hey, hey!