Fire in the Alehouse

The moon hung low on the cardboard lane;

I pushed through the door from the wind and rain;

A fill cried like a memory;

And the stout went warm in the company;

I set my boots by the sweat and wood;

With a tipsy grin and a heart gone good;

The night was young and the tales went wild;

Like a lightning spark in an old stone mile;

Oh, we burned like fire in the alehouse glow;

With a thumping bass and a roll of the bow;

Let the tin whistle cut through the smoke and steam;

We're alive in the beat of the same old dream;

Raise it high, let the roof shake loose;

This ragged road has still got juice;

The meddling dance on the edge of loud;

While the drums came down like a thunder cloud;

Electric strings that the rafters ring;

And the whole damn room in the tavern sing;

I leaned on the bar with a grin so white;

And the years rolled back like a river tide;

Every scar and the light just shone;

Like a story carved in the doorpost stone;

Oh, we burned like fire;

If the alehouse glowed with a thumping face;

And all the beat bowed;

Let the tin whistle cut through the smoke and steam;

We're alive in the beat of the same old dream;

Raise it high, let the roof shake loose;

This wagon road has still got juice;

So when the night gets cold, let it come on in;

We'll meet the dark with a reckless grin;

No choir here, just one loud soul;

And I'll hop the drum like a rolling bull;

Through the roar, I'll sing my name;

And leave in sparks, not smoke, not shame;

Oh, we burn like fire in the ale house;

Go with the thumping bass and roll up the bow;

Let the tin whistle cut through the smoke and steam;

We're alive in the beat of the same old dream;

Seize it high, let the wolf shake loose;

This ragged road has still got juice;

When the last knife falls from the door;

We'll be laughing ghosts on the timber floor;

One more tune, then home we roam;

Oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh;

Oh-oh-oh-ah, oh-oh-oh-ah;