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Oh, you can search fad and wide you can drink the whole town dry
But you'll never find a beer so brown (But you'll never find a beer so brown)
As the one we drink in our home town (But you'll never find a beer so brown) As the one we drink in our home town
You can keep your fancy ales you can drink'em by the flagon but the only brew for the brave and true comes from the Green Dragon
Hey oh, to the bottle I go to heal my heart and drown my woe rain may fall and wind may blow but there'll still be many miles to go
Sweet is the sound of the pouring rain and the stream that falls from hills to plain but better than rain or rippling brook is a mug of beer inside the Took!
Blunt the knives, bent 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, trail the fat leave the bones on the bedroom mat pour the milk on the pantry floor splash the wine on every door
Dump the corks in the boiling bowl pound them up with a thumping pole and when you've finished if they are whole send them down the hall to roll
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!
There's an Inn, there's an Inn a merry old Inn, beneath an old grey hill and there they brew a beer so brown the Man on the Moon himself came down one night to drink his fill
Ohh, the ostler has a tipsy cat that plays the five-string 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 he sawed and he quickened the tune while the landlord shook the Man on the Moon "It's after three!" he said now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle the dog began to roar the cows 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 surprise they all went back to bed!