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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required In the backwoods of Virginia by a one room country shack Stood a still that was a brewing that my Mama kept out back. She kept a shotgun by the backdoor in an old potato sack and when the travelers came a calling they brought money in a paper sack. The bell tree was a blowing and you could hear that little ring for a taste of that clear whiskey and the good times it could bring. Now in the quietness of the night with a little light from the moon Came the smoke that was rising from the making of the brew. Mama had many names she called it and here are just a few... Corn Liquor, Bush Whiskey, Hillbilly Pop, White Lightning and of course Mountain Dew. It was warm when you drank it and had a kick like a mule and if you needed resting you could sit on Mama's stool. Now the lawmen would come a sneaking and try to find my Mama's brew but the tin cans that were a hanging would alert her to the news that someone was a snooping and trying to find her moonshine brew. But out by Mama's shack was an old hole that she had dug to hid her jars of whiskey from the lawman that came a looking for her special brew. They ain't never found her whiskey...but I still know where it is... and at times I sit on Mama's stool by that old bell tree and have a sip or maybe two. T Reams 1st Place
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