To Beer:
The great harvest comes in once every year,
Hard men toil the earth with sweat on their brow,
Crops of baileys and hops to make the beer,
Each year on tractors the earth they must plough.
The land must be rich in nutrients first,
With the right amount of rain and sunshine,
Farmers will tell you that they are cursed,
Far easier to grow vineyards for wine.
Where would we be without beer in our glass,
No pub would be open and that's a fact,
Who wants to join in with the upper class,
I like my beer and how it makes me act.
So raise a toast to all the beer out there,
A thought to the farmers who made it fair.
/|\
(Ten syllables per line)
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