(Chorus) Oh they call it that good old mountain dew
And them that refuse it are few (mighty few)
I’ll hush up my mug if you fill up my jug
With that good old mountain dew
My brother Bill
Has a still on the hill
Where he runs off a gallon or two
The buzzards in the sky
Got so drunk they cannot fly
Just from sipping that good old mountain dew
(Chorus)
My brother Mort
He’s sawed off and short
Stands about four foot two
But he thinks he’s a giant
When you give him a pint
Of that good old mountain dew
(Chorus)
We’re mourning for Fred
We took him for dead,
Said that he couldn’t pull through.
But he came back to life
When we traded his wife
For a pint of that good old mountain dew.
(Chorus)
