From Barrel hung, my glass, if you could fill
Tonight I find I have some time to kill
My drink? A draught of gold and amber hue
A velvet blend. A yeasty, happy brew
Look I upon a field of grains and wheat
I do not see the bread of which I eat.
Its stouts and creamy ales that fill my mug,
And porters, pilsners, bocks, and lagers too.
Though wine and spirits, high, may lift your voice
Mere red, rose, or white is not a choice.
A whiskey glass does not present a head
Of frothy suds atop a luquid bed.
A snifer's port can't possibly replace
A sea of foam above a limpid base.
Your glass, lift high, to God we give our praise.
We thank you Lord for every glass we raise
To health! to life! we raise our glasses high
And drink our brew till morning tide is high.
Written by Gemma Salt.
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