Far north in the Shire, where the winters are dire
Where the breeze chills you right to the bone
Where the young dress up warm to conform with the norm
And the gaffers all mutter and moan
There’s a need to feel tender and toasty
There’s a need for that warm soothing glow
So they boil and they brew, all the four seasons through
Always the hard liquor flow
The brandy is fine
Made from sweet apple wine
Once a lad from the moor sought to brandy procure
He had heard that the strong drink was tasty
So he went to a farm and he turned on his charm
But alas, his complexion was pasty
When they saw him, the children went hiding
All the dogs barked well into the night
And the farmer he said, ‘you look just like the dead
‘Scram and get out of my sight’
The brandy is fine
Made from sweet apple wine
The thirsty young lad felt dejected and sad
But his mind was still set on the drink
So he plotted and he planned with his old lute in hand
‘I will sing ’til the old farmer blinks
‘In a matter of minutes he’ll slumber
‘In a matter of moments he’ll sleep
‘I will get to his still and my cup I will fill
‘Golden rewards I will reap’
The brandy is fine
Made from sweet apple wine
The lad by the fence feeling thirsty and tense
When he strummed out a chord filled with need
And that song full of yearn, made the old farmer turn
’til he went for a nap near the weed
So the laddie went into the farmstead
To the barn for his thirst to abate
He grabbed hold of a flask, then he picked up a cask
Ran from the farmer’s estate
The brandy is fine
Made from sweet apple wine
He hid in the wood, feeling elated and good
‘With my cunning there’s no way to stop me
‘I have had to work hard, but I got my reward
‘Now I’ll savour my first taste of brandy’
So he opened the cask with a hammer
And he drank with a yearning so deep
But he spluttered and coughed, cause that taste was just off
Juice from both turnip and neep
The brandy is fine
Made from sweet apple wine
