(Jape Richardson)
GEORGE JONES (Mercury 71406, 1959)

Well, in North Carolina, way back in the hills
Lived my ol' pappy and he had him a still
He brewed white lightning till the sun went down
And then he'd fill him a jug and he'd pass it around
Mighty, mighty pleasin', pappy's corn squeezin'
Sssh, white lightning

Well, 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', pprrrsss, white lightning

Well, I asked my ol' pappy why he called his brew
White lightning 'stead of mountain dew
I took a little sip and right away I knew
As my eyes boged out and my face turned blue
Lightning started flashin'
Thunder started clashin', sssh, white lightning


Well, a city slicker came and he said; "I'm tough"
I think I wanna taste that powerful stuff
He took one slog and he drank it right down
And I heard him moaning as he hit the ground
Mighty, mighty pleasin', my pappy's corn squeezin'
Sssh, white lightning