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.

CHORUS