The Brewery at the Old Holcomb Stove Works

Lyrics

This ain't the Tudor postcard.
Not the lake, not the swans.
This is North Avondale Road.
Where the real work gets done.

Remember the Holcomb Stove Works?
Just a long brick ghost on the side of the tracks.
Corrugated tin, rust-colored maps of rain.
Empty for years. Cold furnaces, silent stacks.
You could smell the coal dust if you really tried.
The ghost of a thousand cast-iron bellies, glowing inside.

Then the boil kettles fired up!
The stainless steel gleam!
Wild Heaven came knocking, living the dream.
Atlanta Brewing Company moved in next door.
From stoves to stouts, what you waiting for?
Slide me another flight down the bar.
Yeah, the old stove works is the new star.

Now the loading bay doors are rolled up high.
Sunlight hits the concrete floor.
Got families with dogs, guys in ties after five.
That old smell of industry? Not anymore.
Now it's malt, it's citrus, it's piney hops in the air.
Yeah, the whole city's coming, pulling up a chair.

Because the boil kettles fired up!
The stainless steel gleam!
Wild Heaven is pouring, living the dream.
Atlanta Brewing Company right next door.
From hearthstones to IPAs, what you waiting for?
Slide me another flight down the bar.
Yeah, the old stove works is the new star.

Some folks want the Stratford story, neat and clean.
Half-timbered gables, a perfect English scene.
But a town's gotta breathe, gotta grow, gotta change.
Gotta get a little grease on its hands, rearrange.
This is our new chapter, written in foam and steel.
This is Avondale now. This is real.

So gimme that Emergency Drinking Beer.
Gimme that Hoplanta.
Pour me a White Blackbird.
Yeah.
To Holcomb. To the heat.
The fire's still here.
Just tastes a little different.