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Poem

That amber liquid far from insipid
Like molten honey but drawn from a tap,
Bitter or dark, the choices quite stark,
God's malted ale, nature's true sap.

Vikings grew strong, strengthened their bond,
Giving them courage for mayhem galore,
A beer in their hand, they pillaged the land
Never quite feeling tired or sore.

The Celts used for curing, Egyptians for luring
Their gods from the heavens bribed to partake,
The English just drank as their water so stank,
Beer their solution to gulp for life's sake.

Wine lovers admit that their glass needs
be sipped
While describing aromas of berries and earth,
No such constraint, nor need for restraint
For drinkers of ale are freewheeling from birth.

So let raise a jug or a frothy filled mug
While watching a game and eating junk food,
Nothing is wetter, more luscious and better
Than a cold tasty beer when expertly brewed.

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