Still in the shed, and a worm in the field
The guards are out looking for the still
But the word went out before they went about
Looking for what has been distilled and always will
While the rain falls on old Ireland
Where we always have made and drank Putín…
The only and oldest kingdom of Europe
Where we need neither king or Queen!
The worm is found where left on the ground
And the few bottles to keep cops quiet in the hedge
Hedging their bets, they are distilling yet
Toasting the once taken pledge!
The stories told when he was old
By my father to me when I was young…
Were recalled and to others in Renmore retold…
When I first tasted Poiteen on the tongue!