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Frosty the Beer Mug
By Joe Pivetti

Frosty the beer mug, held a draft of hoppy gold, From a new small batch with a fruity nose, and not too icy cold. Frosty the beer mug, is a pint of ale, they say. He was raised on "skoal", but the barmen know he's all for cheers this day. There must have been some magic in that golden pale they found, For when they drew a foamy head, we began to dance around! Oh, Frosty, the beer mug, was held high as he could be; and the brewers say, it's cold quaff all day, just for Sam and you and me. Slurpity slurp, slurp, slurpity slurp, slurp, that's what Frosty's for. Burpity burp, burp, burpity burp, burp, making room for more. Frosty the beer mug, held a cold one all that day, "Have another one, and we'll have some fun now", Frosty seemed to say. Billied to the bar, with that beer mug in my hand, Ice formed on the glass, the brew frothed with gas, prayin', "Elder, is it man?" They came in from the streets of town, right to the keg tap tout; and only paused a moment, when they hear him yell, "we're out!" For Frosty, the beer mug, in no haste to go away, Helped me wave "come on in", and say "don't cry, there's still good beer...here all day."