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 And policemen all from Donegal, Sligo and Leitrim too, We'll give 'em the slip and we'll take a sip or a bucket full of mountain dew. At the foot of the hill there's a neat little still where the smoke curls up to the sky By a whiff of the smell you can plainly tell 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 take a bowl or a bucket full of mountain dew. Now learned men as use the pen have writ the praises high Of the rare poitin from Ireland green, distilled from wheat and rye. Away with your pills, it'll cure all ills, be ye Pagan, Christian or Jew So take off your coat and grease your throat with a bucket full of mountain dew.