Friday, December 2, 2011

An Ode to Red Beer - or - To Younger Days Barely Recalled

An Ode to Red Beer
To Younger Days Barely Recalled


Wally Lee Parker

(first published in 1984 - all rights to this material reserved)

Gather ‘round, all around,
my bleary eyed friends,
and I’ll chant you a rhyme
‘bout red beer and sin.
I’ll weave you a poem
from the threads of our passion
for lives lived with fever
— in hot ribald fashion,
of our ‘fliction for drinkin’
till stinkin’ly blind,
of our pains sent a’bobbin’
in bottles of wine,
of the want that is ‘roused
by our heated affections,
and the solace we seek
for perplexin’ rejections,
of those nights spent awash
in an alcohol daze,
with grey morns crushin’ down
while we’re lost in a haze,
of the hurt that consumes
with a bitter hot sear
— relieved by a draught
from a quenchin’ red beer.

Beer born from the sun
and the fertile brown earth,
from the deep bubblin’ crocks
of the brewers of mirth,
from the brine tears of angels
— so amber and clear,
from the hops and the malts
and the spirits of cheer.

We’ve plucked ripe tomatoes
from Satan’s own tree,
and whipped ‘em with vengeance
to sauce potpourri.
Then we pour ‘em so slowly
o’er the rim of the jug
— ‘bout three fingers deep
in a cold earthen mug.
Then we dump in the beer
from as high as inclined —
all dashin’ and splashin’
about in the stein,
till it runs o’er the brim
as a ruddy red froth
— one spicy delight
is this bloody red broth.

I’ll swap lies with drunkards,
(and braggarts)
(and bitchers)
as long as they’re buyin’
those cold bubblin’ pitchers.
So barmaid keep sendin’
that foamin’ beer spinnin’
its pure virgin dew
with a tartness for sinnin’.

And when life has killed me
just cover my bones.
then pause long enough
to write on my stone,
“Here, picked in death
lies a damn good old boy,
who found in his veggies
one hell of a joy.”

Links to other poems by Wally Lee Parker

Fossil Fires

Night Sounds

Love on a Summer's Night

Odious Potions

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