In Praise Of Ale! - Poem by Lucy Burrow
The brewers of this nation nare renowned for their fine ales
They brew them up in Scotland, Ireland, England - and in Wales
There are Manx brews and Scilly brews and brews from far Cornwall
My delight's the supping of each one, to find the best of all
There is 'Knicker Dropper Glory', 'Bishop's Finger' and there's 'Bass'
Marstons' beer - a 'Pedigree' some think none could surpass!
You can have the 'Doggies Bollocks' or some 'Fuggles' in your Jar
Or 'Indiana's Bones', my friend, when you go to the bar!
Beers are brewed from barley, from the maltsters fine domain
Where he germinates the seed and then kiln dries the grain
Then its crushed and, mashed with water, then its mashed with hops
With yeast it's then fermented, put in barrels, sent to shops!
There is 'Whistle Belly Vengeance' and a tasty 'Pitchfork' brew
Of 'Otter', 'Barn Owl', 'Dolphin' I'll admit I've supped a few!
You could have a 'Pig's Ear' even have the entire 'Snout'
I even once had 'Wobbly Bob' behind 'The Tickled Trout'!
Beware of specific gravity, it may well alter yours
Too high and one too many finds you crawling on all fours
It lubricates the vocal chords, you'll be singing like the birds
But it waters down your senses so you up your muddled words!
Good ale is like good women, its tasty and its kind
Its hard to go on working 'cos it's always on your mind
It picks you up, it's physic - all your troubles it will ease
So landlord, it's a pint of your good ale, I'm drinking, please
Comments about In Praise Of Ale! by Lucy Burrow
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You