Now, Johnny was a fisherman who lived out in the bay,
He made a little moonshine to pa** the time away;
He made a little moonshine, a very special brew,
It caused the b'ys to cross their eyes, that good old mountain dew.
The constable he came around, to Johnny he did say,
"I'd like to know who makes the moonshine out here in the bay."
Now, Johnny being no one's fool, quickly he replied,
"Same man who makes the sunshine out in Sunnyside."
A rat in Johnny's cellar was having quite a scoff,
So Johnny put some moonshines in, hopes would k** him off;
The rat he staggered out that night and sang out loud and clear,
"I'll black the eyes of any cat this side of Carbonear."
Well, the Parson said to Johnny, "Now, Johnny, you must know,
If you keep drinking moonshine, to hell you'll surely go."
"Now, Parson," answered Johnny, "'tis plainly to be seen,
I use it in me motorboat instead of gasoline."
Well, Johnny died and went aloft, Saint Peter he did meet,
He noticed Johnny wasn't very steady on his feet;
He said to Johnny, "What is that you've got there in your hand?"
"Don't worry, b'y," said Johnny, "it's just a moonshine can."
"Well, you cannot take it with you," Saint Peter he did say,
"You'll have to leave your moonshine can outside the pearly gate."
Well, Johnny thought it over and told Saint Peter, "No!
I guess I'll take me moonshine can and trudge on down below."