Beer Such funny elixir Its held in bottle, can and stein Some think itís a cheeriotic divine Brewed in vessels made out of brass If you have too much you can fall onto youíre a.. (If youíre lucky) To have a brew made oh so swell Some have their secret wishing well ďI donít give a dimeĒ you hear some say Its brown, smells good so send it down my way Beer is old, so much I know When we get older, itís quite the show To see how some that had there consume Heading hasty for the special room And if you do not run fast enough, I bet You find that your pants are somewhat wet Such a funny elixir Prosit, to you and have a Beer
The ability to describe life with words is similar to painting a picture; both can be powerful tools.
Well, Marilyn, my goodness! Where's the party? Let's see, Mr Wizzard's bringing the beer, Martie's all ready to go, so I'm coming along. Helmut,dear, where do you live? Can we come over? Corrine and Denise, are you in? I personally don't drink, so I'm the designated driver, but I am ready to party. Very hearty poem, Helmut Liz