The Gods Of My Great Grandfather
Begin again: restart anew
The beer we mixed has failed to brew
and so our alcoholic dreams
Have all dried up, for now; yet schemes
far beyond the scope of mortals
Bring us wicked, sober chortles
We have the hops; we have the yeast
So filch the wine, and brew the priest
Distill the holy water, too
It's clear we haven't got a clue!
Compelled by thoughts of drinking high,
We launch another hopeful try
We buy some barrels and some vats
And don our magic brewer's hats
We stir the mixture with our "sticks"
We've got to get our lager-fix
The fermentation's setting in
But is vodka, beer or gin?
Never mind. We'll swill it down
And have a party, go to town!
Contributors: | Big Andy, Kansas Sam, F, N, Anon., Apsley. |
Poem finished: | 18th November 2003 by Anon.. |