It Can'T Be That Hard

Bushels and bushels of apple upon apple, Canned, frozen, or fresh just couldn't keep up the pace. Fallen fruit amounted to ripe fermented scrapple, The solution of course, stared us both in the face. If we had the setup we could bottle the stuff, Taking the essence of the apple's sweet mashed flesh. Producing hard cider would use up more than enough. All that we'd need is grinder, storage, and a press. We searched the internet for the tools of the trade, This proved to be fruitless, expenses added fast. There had to be a better way, something hand made. Maybe a trip to Walmart could solve this at last. Gripping three one hundred dollar bills, we were off, Wood chipper, yeast, trash can; we loaded up the cart. Borrowed a car jack and a old tarp for the trough. It all came together, we're ready to start. We had a few issues duct tap readily fixed, Amassing cider in bucket after bucket. We capped each barrel with ingredients mixed A little of this, a little that, ahh... suck it... Fermented, bottled, capped and allowed to settle, Trying at last, dry and sparkling, with a smooth taste. Up to get more, we fell tail over teakettle, The only mistake we made was standing in haste.