VERSE 1:
Let [D#] the grasses grow and the [G#] waters flow, in a [D#] free and easy [A#] way
But [D#] give me enough of the [G#] rare old stuff, that's [D#] made near [A#] Galway [D#] Bay
Come [D#] gougers all from [D#] Donegal, [D#] Sligo and Leitrim [Cm] too
And we'll [D#] give 'em the slip and we'll [G#] take a sip, of the [D#] rare old [A#] Mountain [D#] Dew

CHORUS:
Hi di-[D#]-diddly-idle-um, diddly-[G#]-doodle-idle-um, diddly-[D#]-doo-ri-diddlum-[A#]-deh
Hi di-[D#]-diddly-idle-um, diddly-[G#]-doodle-idle-um, diddly-[D#]-doo-ri-[A#]-diddlum-[D#]-deh

VERSE 2:
At the [D#] foot of the hill there's a [G#] neat little still, where the [D#] smoke curls up to the [A#] sky
By the [D#] smoke and the smell you can [G#] plainly tell, that there's [D#] poitín [A#] brewing near [D#] by
It [D#] fills the air with a [D#] perfume rare, in-[D#]-between both me and [Cm] you
When [D#] home you go, you can [G#] take a bowl, or a [D#] bucket of [A#] Mountain [D#] Dew

REPEAT CHORUS:

BREAK: [D#] [G#] [D#] [A#] / [D#] [G#] ^[D#] ^[A#] [D#]

VERSE 3:
Now [D#] learned men who [G#] use the pen, have [D#] written your praises [A#] high
That [D#] sweet poitín from [G#] Ireland green, that's [D#] made from [A#] wheat and [D#] rye
Go [D#] away with your pills, it'll [D#] cure all ills, for a [D#] Pagan, Christian or [Cm] Jew
Take [D#] off your coat and [G#] grease your throat, with a [D#] bucket of the [A#] Mountain [D#] Dew

REPEAT CHORUS:

BREAK: [D#] [G#] [D#] [A#] / [D#] [G#] ^[D#] ^[A#] [D#]

REPEAT VERSE 1:

REPEAT CHORUS: [x2]