Formerly in the Irish Packet
Aye a-diddlee aye dul dum[^15]
Diddlee oodle aye dul dum
Diddlee doo rye diddlee aye ay [x2]
Let grasses grow and water flow in a free and easy way
Just give me enough of the rare old stuff that’s grown near Galway Bay
The police men from old Donegal, Sligo and Lietrim, too
We’ll give them the slip and we’ll 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 smoke and the smell you can plainly tell there’s poitin[^16] brewing nearby
It fills the air with odor rare, but betwixt both me and you
When home we go you can take a bowl or a bucket of the mountain dew
Now learned men who use the pen have wrote your praises high
That sweet poitin from Ireland green is stilled from wheat and rye
Put away your pills, it’ll cure all ills, whether Pagan or Christian or Jew
Take off your coat and grease your throat with a bucket of the mountain dew