[Intro] [Verse 1] West of the mountains on the Muh-non-guh-hee-la, rye don't travel well, a wagon full of grain won't make it east, but a keg of whiskey'll sell, we pay the doctor in whiskey, we pay the preacher in rye, it's the only money out here — and then the taxman came by. [Verse 2] Twelve years ago, we fought a king for taxin' what we made, now our own Congress taxes it — and the big distillers get a better rate, so when the taxman rode through Washington County with his book, we tarred him and we feathered him and sent him home with a different look. [Chorus] Whiskey! (Whiskey!) Rye in the barrel and fire in the still, you can tax the city, but you'll never tax the hill — whiskey! (Whiskey!) [Verse 3] Seven thousand of us gathered out on Braddock's Field, talkin' 'bout burnin' Pittsburgh down and makin' Philly yield, but Pittsburgh met us in the road with barrels open wide, and we drank the town's whiskey and marched right through and out the other side. [Chorus] Whiskey! (Whiskey!) Rye in the barrel and fire in the still, you can tax the city, but you'll never tax the hill — whiskey! (Whiskey!) [Fiddle and Whistle Break] [Verse 4] Then word came over the mountains that the President's on his horse, thirteen thousand men behind him, and he's comin' here, of course, the man we'd followed through the war was ridin' at us now, and every rebel in the county found somewhere to hide, somehow. [Bridge] They caught a couple dozen, and they hauled 'em off to trial, two got sentenced for treason — and he pardoned 'em after a while. [Verse 5] And the tax? It lasted till eighteen-oh-two, when Jefferson let it fall — and up along the Muh-non-guh-hee-la, the stills had never stopped at all. [Final Chorus] Whiskey! (Whiskey!) Rye in the barrel and fire in the still, you can tax the city, but you'll never tax the hill — whiskey! (Whiskey!) [Outro]
