Picture this...

Its fifty years ago on a small country farm

Johnny McMasters Place

And its Friday Night

You've just finished ten hot days of back breakin labor

And the hay...the hay is finallyin

You're sitting around the kitchen table

Under the dim light of the carosine lantern

Everyone is laughing and joking and telling stories...

about their neighbors

You're half way through a bottle of....Moon Shine

And You're gettin aaalllllll fired up....for the dance

Ladies and Gentlemen...I give you the Mull River Shuffle



Here comes Mister MacNeil

The fine shape that he is in

There is no telling which way he'll feel

After his twister around the bend



Raisin' the jar an raisin' hell

There's plenty of stories that they will tell

Some were born of true detail

Some were purely fiction



Look up yonder it's old MacPhee

He's having a few he can hardly see

Wrapped his buggy around a tree

Someone would call the Mounties



Raisin't the jar and raisin' hell

There's plenty of stories that they will tell

Some were born of true detail

Some were purely fiction



Ups you'll find young cameron

of full the debts and a fearful hammerin

he'll be stutterin and stammerin

and there'll be hell today come saturday



Raisin the jar and raisin hell

theres plenty of stories that they will tell

some were born of true detail

and some were purely fiction



There they write

By the light

Burn and grite

Everynight

waiting for the fish to bite

along the shores of Cocomaugh



raisin the jar and raisin hell

theres plenty of stories that they will tell

Some were born of true detail

and some