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Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Beer Poetry

Lines on Ale (1848), by Edgar Allen Poe (1809 – 1849)

Fill with mingled cream and amber,
I will drain that glass again.
Such hilarious visions clamber
Through the chamber of my brain.
Quaintest thoughts, queerest fancies
Come to life and fade away.
What care I how time advances;
I am drinking ale today.

That's just one of the many Beer Poems you'll find at Jay Brook's site:

It's a website written by a guy who spent part of his honeymoon visiting breweries in the Pacific Northwest.

You'll also find stories and photos including Beer and Art and more!

Have fun!

Sir Bowie of Greenbriar


  1. a couple we could hang out with!

    our honeymoon 25 years ago:
    "um yes, we'll have a few loaves of bread and a pound of butter and gallons of beer...yes, we were here last night...sunsets on the the lighthouse..."

    eat, drink, be merry

    got that part down many years ago ; )

    Lady S

  2. Thanks for the shout out.


    Brookston Beer Bulletin

  3. One of my fave beer poems...makes want to quench my thrist just typing it...


    Oh it's-a lonesome away from your kindred and all
    By the campfire at night we'll hear the wild dingoes call
    But there's-a nothing so lonesome, morbid or drear
    Than to stand in the bar of a pub with no beer

    Now the publican's anxious for the quota to come
    And there's a far away look on the face of the bum
    The maid's gone all cranky and the cook's acting queer
    Oh what a terrible place is a pub with no beer

    Then the stockman rides up with his dry dusty throat
    He breasts up to the bar and pulls a wad from his coat
    But the smile on his face quickly turns to a sneer
    As the barman says sadly the pub's got no beer

    Then the swaggie comes in smothered in dust and flies
    He throws down his roll and rubs the sweat from his eyes
    But when he is told, he says what's this I hear
    I've trudged fifty flamin' miles to a pub with no beer

    Now there's a dog on the v'randa, for his master he waits
    But the boss is inside drinking wine with his mates
    He hurries for cover and he cringes in fear
    It's no place for a dog 'round a pub with no beer

    And old Billy the blacksmith, the first time in his life
    Why he's gone home cold sober to his darling wife
    He walks in the kitchen, she says you're early Bill dear
    But then he breaks down and tells her the pub's got no beer

    Oh it's hard to believe that there's customers still
    But the money's still tinkling in the old ancient till
    The wine buffs are happy and I know they're sincere
    When they say they don't care if the pub's got no beer

    So it's-a lonesome away from your kindred and all
    By the campfire at night we'll hear the wild dingoes call
    But there's-a nothing so lonesome, morbid or drear-a.
    Than to stand in the bar of that pub with no beer.

    Sir Dayvd of Oxford

  4. I can certainly appreciate Edgar Allan Poes's account of beer having hallucinogenic tendancies.....but I can't say I would attest to a beer buzz making me question my sexual orientation.....with those "queerest fancies".......maybe just as well I stick to those porters and stouts I drink.....Poe must be referencing those 'girlie' wheat beers or VERY pale ales....haha! Just kidding......

    Brother Sir Hook knows my mantra: The only beer worth one you CAN'T see through the glass!

    A toast to all beer quaffers.....regardless of which way it floats your boat! Cheerio!!

    Sir Richard....somewhere in the Brandywine Valley this morning in Delaware!

  5. Aye, Sir Richard indeed believes in drinking no beer that you can see your fingers through while holding the glass. I on the other hand, the one holding my glass, prefer only beer that makes it impossible to see the fingers on my non-beer holding hand!

    Sir D's poem sounds like an Aussie one, with dingos and all.

    I fear
    My dear
    The day
    Without BEER!

    Sir Hook Who Drinks No Wine Before It's Beer Time of Warrick

  6. Hear, Hear, Most heartily agree Sir Richard. I'll drink to that...

    yep hook digoes... stockmen swaggermen most definitly Oz