Odes to BoozeStanzas to Pale Ale Taken from the venerable but now defunct magazine 'Punch' |
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Oh! I have loved thee fondly, ever Preferred thee to the choicest wine; From thee my lips they could not sever By saying thou containedst strychnine. Did I believe the slander? Never! I held thee still to be divine. For me thy color hath a charm, Although 'tis true they call thee Pale; And be thou cold when I am warm, As late I've been - so high the scale Of FAHRENHEIT - and febrile harm Allay, refrigerating Ale! How sweet thou art! - yet bitter, too And sparkling, like satiric fun; But how much better thee to brew, Than a conundrum or a pun, It is, in every point of view, Must be allowed by every one. Refresh my heart and cool my throat, Light, airy child of malt and hops! That dost not stuff, engross, and bloat The skin, the sides, the chin, the chops, And burst the buttons off the coat, Like stout and porter - fattening slops! Result: Talking garbage.
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