Well in North Carolina, way back in the hills, Lived my pappy and he had him a still. He brewed white lightning 'till the sun went down, And then he'd fill him a jug, an' pass it around. Mighty, mighty pleasin', you're pappy's corn squeezin' White Lightning
Yeah, the G-men, T-men, revenurers 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 I asked my pappy why call it brew, White lightning, 'stead of mountain dew. I took on sip and then I knew, As my eyes bugged out and my face turned blue. Mighty, mighty pleasin', you're pappy's corn squeezin' White Lightning
Yeah, G-men, T-men, revenuers too, Searchin' for the place where he made his brew. They were lookin', tryin' book him, But my pappy kept on cookin' White Lightning
Well, a city slicker came, and said "I'm mighty tough." "I think I wanna taste that powerful stuff." He took one s..slug and he drank it right down, And I heard him a-moanin' as he hit the ground Mighty, mighty pleasin', you're pappy's corn squeezin' White Lightning
Yeah, G-men, T-men, revenuers too, Searchin' for the place where he made his brew. They were lookin', tryin' book him But my pappy kept on cookin' White Lightning!
Compositor: J P Richardson (Big Bopper) ECAD: Obra #1078415