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Hydometer
There goes many a good man in suit,
Seen waiting in the banking queue,
That places frustration in my stead,
Of a thing that has never entered their head,
That may be missed in the placement of,
Their eyes upon parchment, screens and stuff,
That calls them to effort just because,
That they and sundry see more than enough,
And place their earnings with the repair,
Of good returns for greying hair.
But should I catch their eye I would,
Beckon to them in gestures proved,
In elbow bent and head thrown back,
In hope that they at time did lack,
In precious essence of the gods,
Ambrosial in its timely effects,
Appearing in one-twenty lots,
The mighty twelve doz' brewing keg.
Yes I have found much to many amaze',
That exists this hefty brew so great,
That makes amber fluid in one-twenty lots,
'Tis surely turned from the hand of God,
But no, it was just Big Steve,
The other day or so I hear,
That is said to know where life's reprieve,
Does carry a vessel for a sea of beer.
And if the fellow in the suit,
I was able to recruit,
I'd send him to B.S. to get,
A supply and truckload of the kegs,
And demonstrate the investment know,
That time, water, sugar and yeast prefer,
And no longer to the bank he'd need to go,
And have only to watch a hydrometer.
