In the Hills of Ol' Kentucky

In the Hills of Ol’ Kentucky
(Blair Babcock)

In the hills of Ol’ Kentucky
On a path up Crooked Hill
My pappy stocked the fires
For to burn his moonshine still

We ran it from the mountain
Across the border lines
O’er the hills and through the valleys
And for to ease a troubled mind

On a run down through Georgia
As we crossed the border line
The sheriff and his deputies
Took pa away for 5 to 9

He swung that ol’ rock hammer
Swung it on the chain gang line
One day he swung that spike and broke those chains
Left them prison walls behind

When pa went away to prison
You know we had to find our way
So I climbed that Hill and stocked them fires
For me and Ma and Della Mae

$3 for a bottle
Up to 30 jugs a day
It was the best moonshine from here to Oregon
It took all our blues away

Pa was a rough and tumble man
He let his pride stand in his way
Heard I made the best shine any tongue done taste
And set out to put me in my grave

In the hills of Ol’ Kentucky
On a path up Crooked Hill
I laid my pappy in that cold hard ground
Underneath his moonshine still