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