My grandaddy lived when liquor was dear.
The guv'ment said there was the devil in beer.
Clever ol' grampa found a need to fill
Makin' moonshine in his still on the hill.

Grandpa used to party down just like us.
A jug o' 'shine to swig and a reefer to puff.
Now it's plain ass-backwards, wish that grandpa could see,
The reefer is slave and the whiskey is free.

But grandpa taught me a thing or two
about hiding in the woods and cookin' brew,
'Bout planting the hemp, and plucking the bud
And protectin' our ass from goverment crud.

A gallon of moonshine and a ounce of pot
Ozark folks know how to party down hot
Shimmy and shuffle, strut and stomp
Hear that washboard a-whackin', see those dancers romp.

I ain't nowhere had a better time
Than suckin' on a reefer and drinkin' that 'shine
And dancing with the women wearing out my shoes.
Li'Bro Ben jammin' those hillbilly blues.