Drinking Up That Weekend Moonshine

Drinking up that weekend moonshine Tipping glasses for a good time Remember last September Shakin' rollin' and fiddlin' Call up the next dosey doe Building a bridge through the line Quadrille starts the square dance with a twostep groove a-riddlin' In the brush we found a groundhog helping us to please a member. Struttin' through the wet logs and prancing to the rodeo while Shorty is always whittlin' a stick and a stone in a trance. He's washing his ears with bee wax to secure his thoughts to surrender. The flask is filled for the afterglow The farmer is fixed and twiddling his thumbs in utter wonder while the pumpkin blows his sax listenin' above and under. All the neighbors come to Charlie She is the madam with the barley In the bottom of the silo says the milkman me o my o There lies the black schnapps up to two-hundred proof. Ready to blow off your proverbial roof Thinking up a new concoction better than a gypsy's option. It's water for my mistress twitchin' bitchin' not middlin'. Keepin' all undercover unless the cops are bought with hops and cease their pressure and stress. Messin' up the town fair auction Had a bit too much potent potion till the entire field became an ocean. What a tasty brew we brethren have got Keepin' the lid on the boilin' pot Playin' with your mind it's just a goof Being foolhardy and quite aloof My reverie in winter serves me well Ring the Christmas and New Year bell Waiting for the sun to give us proof that soon we all will surely undress. Yes with blossom and springtime the autumn is just a memory. We toil the fields with our energies planting again our corn seed. Soon will be our summertime when we are cookin' deeply inside. Drinking up daddio's red wine but it is never ever as fine as our autumnal fermentation. The highly coveted and magical Moonshine We whistle away our meager needs because soon arrives sweet harvest time. Fire will burn again in my brain This lightning doesn't bring the rain After swingin' I got a cramp and a pain Diddle Dee said I should fiddle fum Perhaps smelling the blood of an Englishman The beanstalk flourished into the sky as the crickets chirped summer goodbye. Oh! Mercy lookin' forward to golden autumn Then comes the gift of colors Each leaf is expressing splendor With the cooling of the night air we feel no worry or despair. Easing our aching working bones Now is the harvest blue vacation The Golf may spring a sudden cyclone to frighten the geese and gander who wish to fly and then meander into the Antarctic sensation. Pleasantly smug and quite aware we will feel a bright elation Swigging the jug and passing it on Closing our party without a care With the last joyful laughs and moans we bless our lustful congregation We thank Demeter and do declare our gratitude for this scrumptious homegrown.