Wildcat liquor has done me wrong, I can't sleep night or day That terrible feeling that comes along, when the kick, it begins to get away Potash poison in a mixture, too, they call it sugar of lead If you drink the bootleg 'shine, you'll sure have an achin' head Did you ever wake up on a Sunday's morn with the snakes all around your bed? I know you have, and I have, too. I know I'd rather be dead The preacher comes around and gives advice, and then you have to stall But if he gets to the bottle first, he'll never leave you none at all I'll tell you, brother, and I won't lie, a-what's the matter in this land They'll drink it "wet" and vote it "dry", and hide it, if they can They'll pitch a party and they'll all get drunk and call it "society" But if they catch you with a pint, "Good mornin', penitentiary." (Spoken: Hey hey) Prohibition has killed more folks than Sherman ever seen If they don't get whiskey they'll take to dope--cocaine and morphine This old country, it sure ain't "dry", and "dry" will never be seen Prohibition's just a scheme, a side money-makin' machine Carbolic acid and creosote oughta kill any man Some get paralyzed, some get well, some hit the Golden Land The undertaker has got to live--beat him if you can Prohibition, say it again, it's money-makin' side machine