[Father Time:] A day is born, July the first And with it comes a shock John Barleycorn who quenched your thirst Passed out at twelve o'clock The mourners come from far and near Their bitter tears to shed July the first, prohibition's here And alcohol is dead [Mourners:] Alcohol, alcohol Sorry to see you go Alcohol, alcohol Oh, how we'll miss you so Fare thee well, fare thee well Place us in a padded cell For the country's going to hell Now that she's going dry, dry, dry We hate to say goodbye [Bartenders:] What are we going to do now? What are we going to do? Gone are the beer saloons And we went with them too The future now looks very black Because the future points To red neck-ties and tennis shirts And sarsparilla joints Where are we going to work now? Maybe before we are through We'll have to join the soda water crew We'll have rouge upon our lips And our hands upon our hips Heaven help us when we do [Chorus Girls:] Gee, but it's gonna be tough for the chorus ladies from now on How are we going to wrestle a Rolls-Royce from a Jack or John? A little bit of Haig and Haig while we were having sup Would help to make the tightest Ebeneezer loosen up But now it's gonna be tougher Now we're going to suffer Now that the town is growing dry [The Working Man:] I want my beer, I want my beer And there are no two ways about it I want my beer, I want my beer I won't do any work without it The working man must have his can To do his work from year to year Oh, how I wish again That I was a fish again Swimming in an ocean of beer [Soldiers:] So, this is the land of the free That awoke when the U-boats were sinking And told us to go o'er the sea And protect her liberty Now I'm just as true as can be To my land, but I cannot help from thinking That I should have stayed in Paree Where no one dares to interfere with what you're drinking
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