Dooley was a good ol` man
he lived below the mill
Dooley had two daughters
and a forty-gallon still.
One gal watched the boiler
the other watched the spout
and momma corked the bottles
when ol` Dooley fetched them out.
CHORUS:
Dooley, slipping up the holler
Dooley, trying to make a dollar
Dooley, give me a swaller
I`ll pay you back some day.
The revenuers came for him
slipping through the woods
Dooley kept behind them all
he never lost his goods.
Dooley was a trader
when into town he`d come
sugar by the bushel
and molasses by the tub.
CHORUS
I remember very well
the day ol` Dooley died
the women folk looked sorry
the men stood around and cried.
Now Dooley`s on the mountain
he lies there all alone
they put a jug beside him
and a barrel for a stone.