Beer Makers Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

The Brewery
It goes back a long time when I saw this closed down
the brewery, on the wall, faded letters proclaimed
Portugal`s best beer. The was an enormous gate into
the courtyard I could smell the sweating horses
and saw the iron rings on the wall where they were
tied waiting for their cart to be filled with beer crates.
There were many cats around, once they had been fat
living off the beer foam, waiting for a good time
returning. I tried the front door, massive it was but
not locked I half opened it but then felt spooked there
might some spirits resenting my intrusion?
Twenty years later and the place was bustling with
life, pro, and amateurs can exhibit their work there,
It is easy to spot the difference, the amateur looks happy
with his work, the pro thinks his work is not so good
as he had planned it
When the cats realized that the beer would not flow,
they went back doing what they best do catching mice.