On yonder side of the Smoky Mountains
Hidden away, in the Carolina hills
Guarded by the trees and the weeds and the bushes
Buford Ellis, runs a moonshine still
Buford Ellis, is the kind of feller
That don't care a bit, if he's a breakin' the law
The fact that whiskey, making ain't legal
Don't seem to bother old Buford at all
'Cause, he's a, Carolina moonshiner
Makin that moonshine, drinkin' his fill
A Carolina moonshiner
If the law don't get him, then the moonshine will
Buford's got a wife and 11 children
People say, they ain't nothin' but trash
'Cause, their daddy makes their living
Cookin' and a cannin', that carolina mash
Old bootleggin' Buford, is a low down drunkard
A no good moonshiner's, all that he is
That's what most folks say, about him
At least he's a feedin', his wife and kids
And he's a Carolina moonshiner
A makin' that moonshine, drinkin' his fill
Carolina moonshiner
If the law don't get him, then the moonshine will
And he's a Carolina moonshiner
Makin' that moonshine, drinkin' his fill
Carolina moonshiner
If the law don't get him, then the moonshine will
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