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The rare old mountain dew

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Let the grasses grow and the waters flow
In a free and easy way
But give me enough of the rare old stuff
That's made near Galway Bay
Come gougers all, from Donegal
Sligo and Leitrim too
And we'll give you the slip as we take a sip
Of the rare 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 whiff of the smell you ean plainly tell
There's poitin boys closeby.
For it fills the air, with a perfume rare
That betwixt both me and you
As home we roll, we'll drink a bowl
Or a bucket full of mountain dew

Now learned men who use the pen
Have wrote its praises high
Of a sweet poitin from Ireland green,
Distilled from wheat and rye.
Forget your pills, it will cure all ills
Of the Pagan, Christian or Jew
Take off your coat and drink a boat
Or a bucket full of mountain dew
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