Twas’ the night before Thanksgiving,
And all through the land,
Good people were about, with craft beer in hand.
The growlers were placed by the door with care.
In hopes that @DangerousMan7 still had brew there.
The brewers were all nestled with thick foam in their beards.
While visions of possible hop additions danced in their ears.
I before of my beer cellar contemplating my delight;
In choosing the special craft beers I would have on this night.
All of sudden to my great surprise,
Deep within my near empty cellar, hidden from my eyes,
Was a forgotten @BoomIslandBeer Yule tucked way inside!
And all of a sudden at the window above,
what did my wondering eyes see?
No not St. Nick but Paul Bunyan striding towards me.
In @AdamTurman rendering with Babe at his knee.
Carrying barrels upon barrels of long cask aged brew,
From some far up north cave unreachable by boat or canoe.
He had crossed past @northboundsmokehousebrewpub
With the mighty Ox, Babe the Blue
He shouted and called their contents by name:
“Now Porter, Now Flanders, Now Russian Imperial,
Now Barley Wine, and Stout, and Belgian Golden Strong too,”
Wee Heavy and Abbey Ale he also did name.
He unslung the mighty load from Babe’s broad back,
And filled growlers and bombers from my long empty stash.
Malty aromas, and caramels and bitters and roast.
Chocolates and coffees and fruit notes all told.
He spoke not a word but a slight smile crossed his face.
As gently he filled each thimble tiny vase.
The barrels were loaded as quickly as they came off.
And with nary a shrug Babe bore them aloft.
He nodded and winked as he turned on his way.
And the barrels on Babes’ back moved with a gentle sway.
And I heard him exclaim, ere he strode out of sight,
“Happy Thanksgiving Eve to all! And to all a Safe Night!”
