Ode to Guinness *
MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, in want, when three four-packs I bought,
And poured my first glass of your liquid grains
Clunk and rattle at the end of its draught:
'What the hell," sayeth I, "tis in that can?"
But being too happy in thine happiness,
I drank one . . . and nine or ten more I guess.
In some melodious plan
Of curiosity and fearlessness,
I ripped thee open with the greatest ease.
Twat did I find, in your empty regions?
But a white plastic ball, delved in your mirth
Tasting of goodness in my repletion,
I savored the sweet sadness of your dearth!
And here I stand and voice this folderol,
"Bullocks to you," I say, "my beer's got balls!"