Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the housenot a creature was stirring, not even a mouse
The beverages were stored, in the basement with care
In hopes that St. Bernardus soon would be there
The kittens were nestled all snug in their beds
while visions of kitty-treats danced in their heads
And mrs beerbuzz in her bathrobe, and I in my gear
Had just settled down for a quick evening beer
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
I sprang from my seat to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew without fail
and tripped on the cat and spilled my Pale Ale
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
but a red pickup truck with 9-cases of beer.
With a little old driver making a huge fuss
That we knew in a moment it must be St Bernardus
More rapid than eagles his cases they came,
and he stumbled and stuttered and called them by name.
On ,Witbier on Double, on Abt12, on Watou.
On Triple, on Xmas, on Pater, on Grotten.
To the top of the steps to the top of the mat
Don't spill the beer, break a cork or trip on the cat.
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane veer
when they meet with a drunk carrying 9-cases of beer
So down to the basement the intruder he flew
With a sleigh full of beverages and proper glassware too.
An then in a twinkling I heard through the floor
the clinking and clanking of of every good pour.
As I drew in my head and was turning in fear
Up the steps came Bernardus wreaking of beer.
He was dressed all in saint-hood from his head to his home
And his clothes were all tarnished with wing sauce and foam
A bundle of beer he had flung on his back
And he looked like a vagrant with a bar in his pack.
His eyes how they glazed, his vision all blurry
His cheeks were all rosy, his speech very slurry.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow
and the brew in his hand had foam white as snow.
The crown of a goblet he held tight in his teeth
and the 9-open bottles circled his hand like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a giant beer belly
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly Mad Elf
And I gasped at his stagger in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of the cage
Sent foam and beer shooting out with much rage.
He spoke not one word but mumbled through his work,
And filled all the snifters and turned with a jerk
Any laying a finger aside of each glass
He mapped out the sequence from first to last.
He sprang toward his truck and put on his hat
and spilled one last beer as he tripped on the cat.
But I heard him exclaim as he ground through the gears,
Pour good beers for all, Merry Christmas and Cheers!!
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from my beerbuzz family to yours...
May your holiday beverages be many...
Merry Christmas to you and mrsbeerbuzz. I just got back from getting my winter stockpile from Plaza Beverage (dang was it crowded).
ReplyDeleteThank you and Merry Christmas to you and yours also. Glad to hear Charlie is busy and I'll catch up on what's in your stockpile after the holidays....assuming it survives. We're off to celebrate today and I understand a growler of East End Cherry Stout is on the way here as we speak! Can't wait...
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