Now there's two kinds of whiskey in these mountains... The kind the government knows about... and the good kind. Lewis Redmond made the good kind. Problem was... the revenuers knew it too. Twenty-one years old in the Carolina hills Corn in the mash and smoke above the still Federal paper had his name written down Deputy Duckworth came to bring young Redmond in One wore a badge, one wasn't coming quietly Words got hot underneath those mountain trees Nobody knew before that afternoon was through One man would be running... and one wouldn't move. That's when Lewis Redmond stopped being a moonshiner... and became an outlaw. KING OF THE MOONSHINERS Fire beneath the still Revenuers down below And Redmond in the hills They put his name on wanted paper He put their patience through the fire Every gallon made the government mad And the mountain raised him higher KING OF THE MOONSHINERS Catch him if you can He crossed the line to South Carolina Where the mountains swallow roads Down around the Dark Corner Where a stranger better know Every holler had a hiding place Every ridge could hide a still And every time the revenuers came Lewis disappeared into the hills Some folks called him murderer Some folks called him thief Some swore when the cupboards emptied Redmond brought relief Truth gets hard to separate When legends start to grow But the law knew where they wanted him They just couldn't make him go They kicked through doors They busted stills They chased his smoke Across the hills But every time they thought they had him... Somebody yelled— "REDMOND'S GONE!" KING OF THE MOONSHINERS Fire beneath the still Revenuers down below And Redmond in the hills They put his name on wanted paper He put their patience through the fire Every gallon made the government mad And the mountain raised him higher KING OF THE MOONSHINERS Catch him if you can Then the newspapers found him And the story left the hills Turned a Carolina fugitive Into something bigger still They printed tales of Redmond Till the whole damn country knew Some of it was history Some of it probably wasn't true But that's the thing with outlaws Once the stories start to spread The government can chase the man But they can't arrest the legend in his stead YOU CAN BUST THE BARREL YOU CAN BREAK THE STILL YOU CAN SEND A HUNDRED REVENUERS CRAWLING THROUGH THESE HILLS PUT HIS FACE ON PAPER PUT A PRICE ABOVE HIS HEAD YOU MIGHT PUT LEWIS REDMOND IN CHAINS BUT YOU CAN'T LOCK UP WHAT THE MOUNTAINS SAID KING! OF! THE! MOONSHINERS! April eighteen-eighty-one They finally brought him down No mountain trail to disappear on No friendly holler now Ten years behind a federal wall That's what the judgment read For whiskey, conspiracy And the life that Lewis led But three years later came a paper With a presidential name Chester Arthur signed the pardon... And Redmond walked away. KING OF THE MOONSHINERS Fire beneath the still Revenuers finally caught the man But never caught the myth they'd built They put his name on wanted paper The papers turned his name to gold And every time somebody told it Lewis Redmond grew more bold KING OF THE MOONSHINERS The law finally got their man But the mountains kept the legend... Long after Lewis left the land Funny thing about making a man an outlaw... You put his name on enough wanted posters... Sooner or later... everybody knows his name. And somewhere in those Carolina mountains... there's probably still two kinds of whiskey. The kind the government knows about... and the good kind. Written by Devin Prewitt © 2026. All Rights Reserved.
