The Guinness Fanboy
(A parody of Kipling's "Fuzzy-Wuzzy
I've tasted many a beer along my trails,
An' some of 'em was good an' some was not:
The lagers and the bitters and the ales,
But Guinness Stout's the finest o' the lot!
I never 'ad a ha'pint worth o' bok
That equalled 'alf a swallow o' the stout,
An' I never 'ope to get past six o'clock
Wi'out the taste o' Guinness in my mouth.
So let's 'oist a pint o' Guinness to the land from which it comes,
(That's the famous "Im-reld Oil", as it 'as been known to some),
For ye'll never find more flavor in the beers that you 'ave found,
An' ye'll 'ave me for your comrade while you're buying all the rounds!
The 'ead on Guinness leaves a ring o' foam
Upon your glass when you 'ave 'ad a tug,
An' the konny-soor
can tell where you are from
By countin' up the rings left on your mug:
The Oirish leave not more than five or six,
The Limeys just two more, 'an that's a puzzle,
An' Yanks leave seventeen because they sip,
An' Aussies don't leave none because they guzzle!
So let's 'oist a pint o' Guinness and then drink each other's cheer,
For there's no misfortune greater than to be too ill for beer;
An' if we go too long wi'out, we'll surely die o' thirst,
Or substitute with water an' then surely die accurst'.
Now German dopplebok is very fine,
When autumn brings Oktoberfest about,
An' English bitters always beat French wine,
While Trappist ale 'as strength wi'out a doubt.
But Irish beer will always 'old the title,
An' if you doubt me you can take a look
Within the pages o' that bar-fly's bible,
The one an' only Guinness Record Book!
So let's 'oist a pint o' Guinness an' right down our throats we'll pour,
When we reach the bottom of our mugs we'll order us s'more;
For there'll never be a better way to pass our days and nights:
'Ere's an 'ealth to all this company, an' all your years be bright.
[unverse]Well, I'm not really this extreme about Guinness, but for some reason I've been getting into this. I blame it on smurd, actually - it's all his fault![/unverse]