Lyrics
Three, one, two
It's midnight on a Saturday
my night has just begun
I'm off to ye old public house
for some microbrewed liquid fun
Like an IPA, that's aromatic, 12% and a zillions IBU's
But judging by this draft list, I'll be stumbling home tonight with the Labatt blues
But wait...
What are the Labatt blues, you ask?
Well, let's fill you up and fill you in
So say you're quite the connoisseur of all the finest suds
You're at the local dive with all your fairest-weather buds
You yearn for hops and porters, belgians, bocks, and barleywines
But unless it ends in "light", this joint has nothing of the kind
They'll try to tell you High Life and Shock Top are top of the line craft brews
And if you ain't bud the weiser, you're the reason folks like me got the Labatt blues
Abandon hope, for thou hast entered the House of a thousand Coorses
Is this what Toby Keith's been feeding to his horses?
If life's too short to drink bad beer, I might as well be dead
I think they accidentally served me water instead
But looking on the bright side, I guess it saves a dollar or two
Barkeep, over here… see me, waving my white flag? Yeah… just uh… just get me a Blue Moon
Well I've never been mistreated
by my woman, or The Man
No I've never been mistreated
by my woman, or The Man
But I never thought I'd be betrayed
by the bottle, tap, or can