Let grasses grow and waters flow
In a free and easy way
But give me enough of the fine old stuff
That’s made in Galway Bay
Come peelers all, from Donegal
Sligo and Leitrim, too
We’ll give them the slip and we’ll take a sip
Of the rare ould 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 plainly tell
That there's poitín brewin’ near by.
For it fills the air with odor rare
And betwixt both me and you
As home we roll, we can drink a bowl
Or a bucketful of mountain dew.
Now learned men as use the pen
Have wrote your praises high
That sweet poitín from Ireland green
Distilled from wheat and rye
Throw away your pills, it’ll cure all ills
Be ye pagan, Christian, or Jew
Take off your coat and grease your throat
With a bucket of the mountain dew.