Barky doesn't do beer gardens yet.

My curse is on ye, Sweenie
Ye have me fairly robbed
For ye sit there by the fireside
Yer pipe stuck in yer gob
Ye sit there bu the fireside
from the cold daylight 'til dawn
And ye never will bestir yerself
To plow the rocks o' Bawn.

Heidy ho, fair ones all, and a quart of brown vile stuff in a Mudcat quart jar...god I love these Mudcat ladies...oy, SPaw! put him in the showers!