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.      CHORUS