He won't pay the tax man for moonshine alcohol. He stays clear of the G-Man, bathtub gin sure makes a haul. He's a bootlegger, and he smuggles cases on the run. Music, Vocals, Lyrics & Music Production by Colin Grant-Adams, Lyrics by Clare Steffe
indie
folk
singersongwriter
bluegrass
Story behind the song
He won't pay the tax man for moonshine alcohol. He stays clear of the G-Man, bathtub gin sure makes a haul. He's a bootlegger, and he smuggles cases on the run. Music, Vocals, Lyrics & Music Production by Colin Grant-Adams, Lyrics by Clare Steffen, as a part of the Round The Globe Project.
Lyrics
Bootlegger Colin Grant Adams & Clare Steffen
Way back up in Georgia hills, I had an old moonshine still.
Hidden back in the holler, just north of Blairsville.
Don’t like to pay the tax man for moonshine alcohol.
Dodging the revenuer men, moonshine whiskey to haul.
Waiting for the night, when the moon is shining bright.
Driving that crocked road, trying to stay out of sight.
smuggled in wooden cases, yes, I’m always on the run.
I INVALID ve been to many places, Hell that INVALID s just half the fun.
Chorus
Drinking a gallon of Sneaky Pete Corn liquor is alright too.
Moonshine knocks me off my feet, and called it Mountain Dew
Now I like that demon rum, drinking allkinds of home-brew.
I’ll drink until I go numb, that’s just what I do!
I heard tell years ago. the Scots/Irish came to these hills.
Bring art of distilling, setting up those moonshine Stills,
The first still I made for fun, and I drank up every batch.
Then you could find me, passed out, in the old corn patch.
The moral to my story, when that whiskey takes hold of you.
It will take you up and take you down, no telling INVALID what you INVALID ll do?
It’ll turn you into a wildcat, or as peaceful as a gentle lamb.
At the end of the story friends, you won’t be worth a damn.