A while ago when I was actively trying to increase my collection of beer quotations, the ones that randomly appear in the upper right-hand corner every time you reload the page, I kept finding ones that were part of larger poems. Having something of an obsession with words — and poetry for that matter — I made a page of beer poetry. When I come across another one I find interesting, I add it. There are now 22 of them. Some are quite old, some are by famous poets, and a few are just plain goofy. Take the one below, for example, a spoof of Joyce Kilmer’s famous Trees poem, credited to a Joyce Killjoy by a homebrew club in Boston, The Boston Wort Processors. They have their own small page of five beer poems, including this Trees spoof.
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I think that I shall never hear A poem as lovely as a beer The brew that Joe’s bar has on tap With golden base and snowy cap The foamy stuff I drink all day Until my memory melts away Poems are made by fools I fear But only the Worts can make a beer Notice it’s 4 lines short from the original and references the club in the final line. |
It’s good on its own, but enter that word obsession of mine, and I couldn’t let well enough alone. I added the four missing lines and made several additional modifications. I think I improved it, but what do you think?
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The original, by Joyce Kilmer I THINK that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the sweet earth’s flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree. |
My version, by me I THINK that I shall never hear A poem lovely as a beer. A brew that’s best straight from a tap With golden hue and snowy cap; The liquid bread I drink all day, Until my memory melts away; A beer that’s made with summer malt Too little hops its only fault; Upon whose brow the yeast has lain; In water clear as falling rain. Poems are made by fools I fear, But only wort can make a beer. |