Beyond the city, the fields and the woods,

a bit farther, just over the hill,

there’s a small little cottage, a tiny thing,

where a fella lives who’s called Bill.

Now Bill’s not just anyone, he’s practically famous,

he loves to ferment, to distill.

His hut is set up for wine, vodka, and rum,

yonder, just over the hill.

His drinks are the best, people love his brews,

even if they have to wait until

the distilling is finally done and over,

in the hut just over the hill.

Bill really is the very best at his craft,

he really has honed his skill.

He’s perfected the ferment, the brewing, the aging

there, just over the hill.

And while the alcohol is doing its work,

in its sheds just over the hill,

Bill gets to take a well deserved break

and just take his sweet time to chill.

When the spirits are then finally are properly perfect,

ready just over the hill,

Bill bottles and caps all his labour’s sweet fruit,

having his order to fulfill.

That is the one time where he leaves his hut,

there just over the hill,

to not just sell alcohol but also prepare,

his stocks and tools until

the cycle begins anew once again,

in the hut just over the hill,

with Bill preparing, brewing, and aging

his famous alcohol still.