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

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 poitin, boys, close by
For it fills the air with odor rare, and betwixt both me and you
When home you roll, you can drink a bowl, or a bucket of the Mountain Dew

Now learned men who used the pen, who wrote the praises high
Of the rare poitin from Ireland green, distilled from wheat and rye
Away with yer pills, it´ll cure all ills, be ye Pagan, Christian, Jew
So take off your coat and free your throat, with the real ould Mountain Dew

Hi the dithery al the dal, dal the dal the dithery al, al the dal, dal dithery al dee
Hi the dithery al the dal, dal the dal the dithery al, dal the dal, dal dithery al dee