(Allison Moorer/Doyle Primm)



I know a magical place to get a taste of a little heaven on earth

It's just a watering hole but many a soul go there to quench their thirst

When my whistle's dry there's nowhere that I can think of I'd rather be

It's called the blue moon tap room, yessirree, yessirree

It has thirty cent draws and that's because they only cost Tony two-bits

See it's Tony's joint and he makes it a point to let every poor bum get lit

He's a drunk's patron saint and he won't hesitate to fix you some supper for free

It's called the blue moon tap room, yessirree, yessirree

Each morning at eight it opens it's gates for all my buddies and me

With our foots on the rail and our buckets of ale we tell stories no one believes

We spit and we cuss at the lives that left us then toast to our freedom with glee

It's called the blue moon tap room, yessirree, yessirree

I sit tight each night til they turn up the lights empty my last one and leave

Then squint my eyes at the dawn in the sky as people walk by on the street

God only knows where it is they go but there's only one place for me

It's called the blue moon tap room, yessirree, yessirree