Oh, you can search far 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)
But you'll never find a beer so brown
As the one we drink in our hometown
You can keep your fancy ales
You can drink 'em by the flagon
And 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
There still be many miles to go
Sweet is the sound of the pouring pain
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, 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 crocks in a boiling bowl
Pound them up with a thumping pole
Then 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
There's a merry old inn, beneath the old grey hill
And there they brew a beer so brown
The man in the Moon himself came down
One night to drink his fill
Ooh, 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 he quickened the tune
While the landlord shook by the Man in the Moon
"It's after three!" he said
Now, Quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle
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
Sun raised up her head
She hardly believed her fiery eyes
For it was day, to her surprise
They all went back to bed