I won’t be swillin’,
I’ll deny swillin’,
that’s for damn sure!

I saw derangement,
mind insecure,
It’s vile, this kind of a chug way;
it is an obnoxious plan,
I’ll never stoop to sipping that—
I’m no footwear fan,

Your boot is full, your boot is full.
your boot is full of brew.
From it to taste is a foul disgrace.
and I won’t, but will eschew
drinking from that high-topped shoe.

Yeah, I will stay dry;
I would rather die,
So let’s face it, I won’t take a slug—
fuck it, guy!
’cause I don’t see how anyone could intend
to make a movement toward that kind of elbow bend.

Your boot is full, your boot is full,
your boot is full of brew.
From it to taste is a foul disgrace.
That is something I won’t do—
drink from dry-hopped, high-topped shoe.

Your boot is full, your boot is full,
your boot is full—it’s euw!
Of good leather and beverage it’s such a waste,
but any time that I want to get stewed,
I will not be so uncouth
as to swig jam-infused brew!