Where is your guy tonight, we hope they’re in Yakima.

Maybe they won’t find out what we know

Farms were the last good thing about this part of town

 

When we pick up, we’re willing to take our chances on, the hops that we get 

That we love them more than you know cause we hauled them for you, so

 

You should rub them, just inhale them, it’s not an accident that they’re still picking

And there’s more that we could say, bag them

 

Someday they’ll appreciate in value 

Get kilned and boxed just for you

Brand new harvest for brewing up the pale ales, dry hopped in the afternoon

 

You should rub them, just inhale them, it’s not an accident that they’re still picking

And there’s more that we could say, bag them.

 

Where has our Fall time gone, it’s all been in Yakima…