It was the end of the contract Out in British Columbia Everybody was fed up And missing home
I was aching in the summer heat When my crew boss from my home town came to me “You're from Saint John”, he said And he handed me a Moosehead
My Dad worked at the brewery Punching the clock since he was twenty eight It put me through university In more ways than one
I could drink a whole case of it And feel alright in the morning At your camp, on your boat, or your shed I bet you've got a case of Moosehead
It's the sound of your friends staying at least another half hour It's the taste of this Port City It's the smell of my father It's a kitchen party, game of crib, bonfire on the beach It's a late night at the rink, or finally turning nineteen You say it's just a beer ‘Cause you're probably not from here This beer is home
When I'm on the road and far away People ask me about my hometown They think we're all so kind I say they're mostly right
I say there's room enough for strangers But be on your best behavior Cause everybody is a friend of a friend And everyone drinks MooseheadTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
