Nothing Left




Rare Old Mountain Dew


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 strangers all from Donegal,
Sligo and Leitrim too
Oh, we'll give 'em a slip and we'll take a sip
Of the rare old mountain dew

Thiddle i ay di diddle dum thiddle i ay di diddle dum
Thiddle i ay di diddle dum rum a dum dey
Thiddle i ay di diddle dum thiddle i ay di diddle dum
Thiddle i ay di diddle dum rum a dum dey

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 a perfume 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 writ the praises high
Of the sweet poitin from Ireland green,
Distilled from wheat and rye
Away with yer pills, it'll cure all ills,
Be ye Pagan, Christian or Jew
So take off your coat and grease your throat
With a bucketful of mountain dew