Abe Sammon's Applejack (2) (Bob Lusk) I'd like a drink of Applejack Or a little drink of Ale, That famous stuff Abe Sammons made In the town of Rosendale. It was good for all that ailed you, It would drive away the blues; Why, it made a long-ear rabbit Bite a bull-dog right in two It cured a man in Rock Locks They had given up for dead; He took a drink of applejack And jumped right out of bed. A drink of Abe's old apple Just would make you talk of millions Though you don't have a cent. (sic) A woman lived in Edyville Who had a lazy son; He never did a lick of work Till he was twenty-one. One day a neighbor told her What might induce the lad to work; One charge of Abe's old apple Made him labor like a Turk. In Whiteport lived a pretty girl Whose age was seventeen; She loved a fine young farmer By the name of Silas Green. She would ask him to go walking, Then invite him to her house; But he'd sit there by the hour, Just as quiet as a mouse. One night she mixed him up A drink of toddy for his cold; A drop or two of Sammons' best Just made young Silas bold; They're married now and settled She's happy as a queen, Thanks to that shot of apple Which she gave to Silas Green Oh! the juice of Ulster's apples Will bring back many a dream Of the folks away up yonder-- Up in Rosendale I mean. I'd like to turn the old clock Some forty years or more Just for a night of dances On Abe Sammons' ballroom floor I'd drink a hooker just before The hour for the ball, And have another afterwards-- We'd drink it in the hall. I'd like to dance the Lancers With the girlI loved the best; I never will forget the rose She pinned upon my breast. I often wish I'd saved those cards On which the bids were sent; Inviting you and lady friend Or lady and her gent. I'd like to dance to "Home Seet Home" With those old friends of mine, And have one good old parting drink Of apple, ale, or wine; Then bid them all good morning As the sun begins to shine While the band is softly playing In the days of "Auld Lang Syne." Kentucky Rye or Bourbon Or good old New England rum Might warm the cockles of our hearts When Winter's chill has come. But the stuff we most desired When rude Boreas shook our shacks Was old Ulster's famous Mountain Dew Abe Sammon's Applejack. From a poem by Willy O'Brien, (From an article " 'Whirling' and Applejack in the Catskills by Norman Studer) BL
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!