High on the mountain, there’s a new beer to see,
Tracks of ripe fruit and bold citrus run free.
Better catch a can ‘fore it slips from your sight,
Ole Brew Foot’s here, but just for the night.

Come noon on the first, by the creekside we’ll pour,
A taste of the wild, bold hops at the core.
Don’t blink, don’t wait; this beer’s on the run,
Gone with the strings by the set of the sun.