It was a weird hour when the sun towered
To be slick with moonshine
Cozied shirtless in a rope hammock
Belly-down like my six drunk buddies
Living loose and talking sweet
To bottles now empty of *****
So what is there to do?
Nothing, and that’s a cold fact for high noon
In summer, season of mumbly toasting
But when the humble glug-glug-glugging
Is done with, I’ll tell you, you
Have not licked liquor, not done your part
It’s us who got the moonshine start
Today, you turned your back on white whiskey, yes
We did the work and if it should hurt
I apologize we didn’t want to offend
If it’s the alcohol or if it’s the heat I can’t tell
But who knows why blood boils?
I can see that good-natured drinking
Is the drunk man’s toil
But we’re workers at heart, aren’t we?
And not many are better than us
Except for maybe the rice
Slumped over its stalks, fat on moonshine
Cure-all for the sick mind
Friend to all comers on a humid day
The clear sticky juice that burns all the way down