What would be a festival without some pints of beer?
Frothy flagons flecked with foam, and dripping from my beard.
Ales pale, red and dark, stouts as black as night.
Hoppy pilseners fresh and clear, with carbonation bright.
Rows of casks, all piled high, elixir flowing free.
Rich and malty, sweet and strong, like mother's milk to me.
Come, ye barman, snap to life and pour another draught.
For the task, I'll tip you well, and soon we'll share a laugh.
What shall crown this merriment? Perhaps an IPA.
Could there be a better fit to cap this happy day?
Amber malt with earthy hops exploding to the nose;
Catching second wind, I'll have another one of those!
Want to join the conversation? Sign in to leave a comment.