Picture this...
It’s fifty years ago on a small country farm
Johnny McMasters place
And its Friday Night
You've just finished ten hot days of back breaking labor
And the hay...the hay is finally in
You're sitting around the kitchen table
Under the dim light of the kerosine 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 getting all 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 beinn

Raisin' the jar and raisin' hell
There's plenty of stories that they will tell
Some are born of true detail
Some are 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' the jar and raisin' hell
There's plenty of stories that they will tell
Some are born of true detail
Some are purely fiction

Up spoke fine young cameron
At the dance got a fearful hammerin’
Today all stutter and stammerin’
There’ll be hell to pay come Saturday

Raisin' the jar and raisin' hell
There's plenty of stories that they will tell
Some are born of true detail
Some are purely fiction

Danny Wright had a light
Burning bright every night
Waiting for the fish to bite
Along the shores of 'Cocomagh

Raisin' the jar and raisin' hell
There's plenty of stories that they will tell
Some are born of true detail
Some are purely fiction

There they stand by the door
Selling bush by the score
Asking you to buy some more
Along the shores of 'Cocomagh

Raisin' the jar and raisin' hell
There's plenty of stories that they will tell
Some are born of true detail
Some are purely fiction

I'll go home, I'll go home
Full of the devil and full of the rum
I'll go home, I'll go home
We'll all go home in the morning

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