Dooley was a good old man. He lived beyond the mill. Dooley had two daughters and a forty-gallon still.
One gal watched the boiler, the other watched the spout. Mama corked the bottles and old Dooley fetched them out.
Dooley, slippin' up the hollar. Dooley, tryin' to make a dollar. Dooley, give me a swaller and I'll pay you back some day.
(Repeat last time.)
The revenuers came for him, a-slippin' through the woods but Dooley kept behind them all and never lost his goods.
Dooley was a trader when into town he come. Sugar by the bushel and molasses by the ton.
I remember, very well, the day old Dooley died. The woman folk looked sorry and the men sat 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.
I'll pay you back some day. I'll pay you back some day.
Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings
"Dooley" as written by R. Dillard M. Jayne
Lyrics © LYNNE GREEN-MELINCOFF D/B/A HOFFMAN HOUSE MUSIC
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