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

Yeah, the G-men, T-men, revenurers too,
Searchin' for the place where he made his brew.
They were lookin', tryin' to book him,
But my pappy kept on cookin'
White Lightning

Well I asked my pappy why call it brew,
White lightning, 'stead of mountain dew.
I took on sip and then I knew,
As my eyes bugged out and my face turned blue.
Mighty, mighty pleasin', you're pappy's corn squeezin'
White Lightning

Yeah, G-men, T-men, revenuers too,
Searchin' for the place where he made his brew.
They were lookin', tryin' book him,
But my pappy kept on cookin'
White Lightning

Well, a city slicker came, and said "I'm mighty tough."
"I think I want to taste that powerful stuff."
He took one s..slug and he drank it right down,
And I heard him a-moanin' as he hit the ground
Mighty, mighty pleasin', you're pappy's corn squeezin'
White Lightning

Yeah, G-men, T-men, revenuers too,
Searchin' for the place where he made his brew.
They were lookin', tryin' book him
But my pappy kept on cookin'
White Lightning!

Copyright: BMG Rights Management, GLAD MUSIC CO.
Writer(s): J.P. Richardson