'Oh Anna, ‘s something you need?'
She answered, 'The stuff’s not cheap it’s [bad word] 
But I like it!'

My spirits can drive you to drink
That Marshall, don’t like what it makes you do
So I hide it!

Oh in the dark of a backwoods night
I blend my mash ‘till the mix is nice

Copper flash and a pilot fire
How the pressure’s buildin’

Up Black Mountain and back off the road
Shielded lanterns, their steps were so discreet
But I spied them!

12 gauge buckshot, smoke in a [bad word] padlocks, they guard my boilin’ wheat
Quite nicely!

Oh how flashes light the sky
Lead shot flies and fumes ignite

Bracelets snap and their fists do fly
I feel them flat as they hit my sides

I see their shapes in the red firelight
But I can’t stop or save it

Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh, Anna!