White as the moon

Beneath the Kentucky sky, the moon's shimmering high

Whiskey in the still, dreams we can't deny

Echoes of the creek, where the bluegrass wails

Living in these hollers, where the old spirit prevails

In the valleys deep, where the water runs clear

Made with pride, these old hands hold dear

White whiskey flow, moonlight's silver glow

Roots run strong, where the wildflowers grow

Dance to the winds, hear the night sing

The hill’s quiet stories, the songs we bring

Hold on to this land, where our hearts belong

In these Kentucky hills, we stay strong

Oh, stay with me here, in this sacred land

Where the corn’s ripe and the string play in the band

Were making something pure as its strong, making something white as the moon.

Sheriff take the axe, break the still

Keep a little secret, for the winter’s chill

Lay low, fifty gallons, to see us through

Till the next spring, in this land anew

Here's to the hills, the creek, and the wind

To the quiet nights, where our stories begin

Forever in these fields, where our spirits soar

In Kentucky’s embrace, forevermore