| Well, in North Carolina way back in the hills
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| Lived my old pappy and he had him a still
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| He brewed white lightnin' till the sun went down
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| And then he’d fill him a jug, he’d pass it around
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| Mighty, mighty pleasin', pappy’s corn squeezin'
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| White lightnin'
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| Yeah, the G-men, T-men, revenuers too
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| Searchin' for the place where he made his brew
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| They were lookin', tryin' to book him
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| But my pappy kept on cookin'
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| White lightnin'
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| Well, I asked my old pappy why he called his brew
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| White lightnin' 'stead of mountain dew
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| I took a little sip and right away I knew as
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| As my eyes bugged out and my face turned blue
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| Lightnin' started flashin', thunder started crashin'
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| White lightnin'
|
| Yeah, the G-men, T-men, revenuers too
|
| Searchin' for the place where he made his brew
|
| They were lookin', tryin' to book him
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| But my pappy kept on cookin'
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| White lightnin'
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| Well, a city slicker came and he said, «I'm tough
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| I think I wanna taste that powerful stuff»
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| He took one swift slug and he drank it right down
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| And I heard him moanin' as he hit the ground
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| Mighty, mighty pleasin', your pappy’s corn squezin'
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| White lightnin'
|
| Yeah, the G-men, T-men, revenuers too
|
| Searchin' for the place where he made his brew
|
| They were lookin', tryin' to book him
|
| But my pappy kept on cookin' |