My daddy he was a moonshine man
A regular sort of feller
He kept Ma plastered for forty years
With the still he ran in the cellar.

I remember the folks who sampled his stuff
The glassy looks on their faces
One day our spaniel inhaled the fumes
And dropped dead at twenty paces.

Us boys we got in the moonshine game
And gave the business new birth:
The oldest is now at Marion
And the youngest at Leavenworth.

But they never caught my father though
And they no longer raid his place
And the revenoors now buy his stuff
For use at a missile base.