I think I will muse
on what happens after too many brews.
If you happen to be near
an enormous quantity of beer
it's advised you know where the hills are,
in case there is a rush of pilsner.
You would need to be an auger
to escape this bunch of lager.
I might be hearty, hale, and stout,
but I don't think I could withstand this washout.
We'll recommend a plan you craft,
so that you can avoid the draught.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem