There's Murphy's, Harp and Beamish, Kilkenny and some more.
But I know what I have to do when I'm in the liquor store.
I reach up on the highest shelf and grab those big, black cans,
And then I know the reason why that I have lips and hands.
Well, I love to hear a widget pop, it's music to my ears.
There's love of God and Country, but all I want is beer.
To see those bubbles settle and form that milky top,
Let those bastards board the wagon, but I will never stop!

It's the blackest thing in Ireland that you have ever seen,
So God save Arthur Guinness, and the Devil take the Queen.
It took a lot for me to know what life is all about.
But now I know the answer and it's Guinness Irish Stout.

It makes the girls look pretty. It makes my troubles small.
The only thing that bothers me is when I hear "Last Call!".
It looks like Motor Oil but it tastes more like black gold,
And it's been my favorite beer to drink since I was five years old.
Well, it's made me throw up once or twice and caused a fight or two,
But I can't seem to get enough of Ireland's special brew.
It's made from grains and water but it's so much more than bread,
And if you don't believe me just sip that creamy head.

In Seventeen and Forty-nine our man set up his shop.
He mixed yeast, wheat and barley, then he added in some hops.
He cooked them all together till he know just what to do,
And now we've got a special drink that's good for me and you.
So go out to the public house and when you hear the band,
Just step out on the dance floor with a Guinness in your hand.
Now take that pint up in your hand and let me hear your shout:
"The only beer that's right for me is guiness irish stout!"