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.
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