The Red Malt Liquor

(sung to the tune of The Red Flag)

(c) 2004, 2005 Michael C. Marino

Our Malt Liquor is deepest red;
It reawakens those we long thought dead.
We drink it warm; we drink it cold,
And become, like it, both stout and bold.

The Red Malt Liquor: the worker's beer --
We drink it down, year after year.
We've drunk it deep on winter's days;
We've come too far to change our ways.

Chicago pulls its swelling kegs;
New York drinks it to its dregs;
While Portland sings its solemn vow:
"We will not change our 'Liquor now."

True Comrades love its reddish hue:
All marching, beer stein plain in view.
The workers' brew may win no awards,
Still, it's what the working man affords.

So we will drink no other label!
Nor stop 'til we're beneath the table!
Come riot cops, or charges crim'nal,
This song shall be our parting hymnal!

So raise the Red Malt Liquor high!
Beneath its glass, we'll live and die!
'Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer
We'll keep Red Malt Liquor flowing here.