After twenty eight years I am now pleased to be
In a place to reflect on my life openly;
If one thing is missing, a response to my plea-
I'm asking you, Beer: what's in it for me?

I'm broke and hungover, I've gained fifty pounds
From countless beer tastings and festival rounds.
I've tried all the porters and weizens and browns,
I've sampled the rarest on monast'ry grounds.

I've met every brewmaster, stirred every tun;
I soured a milk stout with brett just for fun.
But if I was hard pressed to pick only one,
I would take Musso's Xyauyu, matured in the sun.

Or perhaps something roasty, full bodied throughout;
My fave double choc'late coffee oatmeal stout.
Wait, make it a Rodenbach- something with clout,
Though saison is a style where my passion's devout.

Great Divide Yeti for breakfast and lunch,
Then Dogfish 1-20, it packs quite a punch.
There's always Mikkeller's great weasel poo Brunch
And a 12 pack of Dale's if we get in a crunch.

Please hand me a glass, I don't mean to sound snide
I won't drink from the bottle, a matter of pride.
Not my own but the brewers', who tend to confide
In geeks to sing praise amidst novice misguides.

The Belgians and Germans both claim to know best
and Americans use way more hops than the rest.
I've no dog in the fight, although I confess
That cute yellow lager belongs in a dress.

I beseech thee Beer, have you nothing to say?
You just sit there and mock while I'm wasting away?
Well I'm sorry to say friend, be what it may,
There's no room in my life for you, move out the way!

What's that, Beer? I KNOW--

but I've given my all!

Yes, there were some good times but payback was small.
Don't give me that look!

Now if you recall--

...Well of course I still love you,

Of course I'll still call...