Oh you can search far and wide,
You can drink the whole town dry,
But you'll never find a beer so brown,
Oh you'll never find a beer so brown,
As the one we drink in our hometown,
As the one we drink in our hometown.
You can keep your fancy ales,
You can drink them by the flagon,
But the only brew for the brave and true...
.Comes from the Green Dragon!!Hey! Ho! to the bottle I go
To heal my heart and drown my woe.
Rain may fall and wind may blow,
But there still be many miles to go,
Sweet is the sound of the pouring rain,
And the stream that falls from hill to plain.
Better than rain or rippling brook,
Is a mug of beer inside this Took.
Blunt the knives, bend the forks
Smash the bottles and burn the corks
Chip the glasses and crack the plates
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!Cut the cloth, tread on the fat
Leave the bones on the bedroom mat
Pour the milk on the pantry floor
Splash the wine on every door!
Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl
Pound them up with a thumping pole
When you're finished, if they are whole
Send them down the hall to roll
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!
There is an inn, a merry old inn
beneath an old grey hill,
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
one night to drink his fill.
The ostler has a tipsy cat
that plays a five-stringed fiddle;
And up and down he saws his bow,
Now squeaky high, now purring low,
now sawing in the middle.
So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,
a jig that would wake the dead:
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,
While the landlord sthe Man in the Moon:
"It's after three!" he said.
Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;
the dog began to roar,
The cow and the horses stood on their heads;
The guests all bounded from their beds
and danced upon the floor.
The round Moon rolled behind the hill,
as the Sun raised up her head.
She hardly believed her fiery eyes;
For though it was day, to her suprise
they all went back to bed.
