I was born and raised, 
A bootlegger's boy, 
In the Cherokee Hills, 
I applied my trade, 
In Mountain City, 
I had me a time, 
Just making money, 
On Moonshine.

So I hauled my load, 
Into Knoxville Town, 
I met me a gal, 
And we knocked around, 
But them Knoxville girls, 
Can't leave me alone, 
In my suits so fine, 
And my bottle of corn.

I'm going back to Mountain City, 
Where I can make another run, 
Load my trunk with Moonshine whisky, 
I am a brave Bootlegger's son.

Yeah I sold that corn, 
To the Circuit Judge, 
On the Public Square, 
To Mayor Trent, 
But I met with trouble, 
On the tracks one night, 
With a drunken man, 
I commenced to fight.

Yeah I fought five rounds, 
Then I put him away, 
With a wicked jab, 
From a razor blade, 
And the women screamed, 
As the bottles broke, 
On stoney ground, 
Where the blood did flow.

I'm going back to Mountain City, 
Gonna make those revenues run, 
I killed a man in a feud of whisky, 
I am a cruel Bootlegger's son.

Now I roam the night, 
Just to hide my shame, 
I lost all my money, 
Can't find a friend, 
Gonna drag my bones, 
To the mountainside, 
If corn don't kill me, 
I might never die.

I'm going back to Mountain City, 
Or else they'll hang me this I know, 
I killed a man in a feud of whisky, 
I am a cruel Bootlegger's boy.

I'm going back to Mountain City, 
To the Cherokee Hills I started from, 
Going home broke ain't it a pity, 
I am a cruel Bootlegger's son.