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
