‘Twas The Week Before Christmas

‘Twas the week before Christmas, and all through the Brew’rySanta delivers local...
The brewers worked hard, but beer doesn’t hurry.
The beer lovers in town, with anticipation,
Awaited the product of sweet fermentation.

The hopheads were nestled all snug in their beds,
With visions of Simcoe and Cascade in their heads.
And BA and Ratebeer were filled with reviews
From all the beer lovers talking about brews.

When then from the kitchen there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my couch to see what was the matter.
And then to the beer fridge I flew with concern,
To grab a craft beer, and then to return

The moon on the fridge cast an ominous shape
I feared I might not get my hop-filled escape!
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But some fine local brewers, toting Florida beer!

From Pinellas, Sarasota, and Hillsborough County,
I knew we would soon enjoy some well-brewed bounty.
The roll-call was perfect, it was Tampa Bay’s best,
It had all the makings of an epic beer fest.

“Now Big Storm! Now, Southern! Dunedin and Rapp!
On, Three Palms! Cigar City, who put us on the map!
Saint Somewhere, Cold Storage, Tampa Bay now in kegs!
And now Cycle Brewing (which really is Peg’s!)”

As dry hops that before the wild fermenter fly,
When they meet with a kettle, and mount to the sky.
So then to the bar-stools we beer-lovers flew,
With hands gripping growlers of our favorite brew.

We tasted our bevies, the mood was such fun
We opened an FYA from ol’ 7venth Sun.
With Barley Mow, St. Pete, and Lagerhaus tasted,
Sarasota, Little Giant, not a single drop wasted.

Then whom should appear (with our bar tabs accruing),
But St. Arnold himself, the Patron of Brewing.
A cooler of craft beer he put on the bar,
And he looked like a peddler, just much more rock-star.

His offerings ranged from the hoppy to sweet
the Porters and Lagers and nice Belgian wheat
His infectious laughter he could not curtail,
And his mustache was soaked by the foam of his ale.

The glass that he drank from was blown for a stout,
But really he would have whatever poured out.
He had a kind face and a big round beer gut,
That sloshed when he laughed and began to strut.

We passed around tastings, and waxed all poetic,
About the fine flavors and lovely aesthetic.
We talked about bitterness and ABV,
And I found that the levels were getting to me.

I yawned and I stretched as I took tasting notes,
And figured we’d all have our own “best beer” votes.
And Arnold he said, as he put on his gloves,
“It’s time for me to spread more beer love!”

He sprang to his ride, not quite sure what it was,
We all shouted “Say Hi to ol’ Santa Claus!”
But we heard him exclaim, ‘ere he disappeared,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a craft beer!”

Cheers!

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~ by Sean Nordquist on December 18, 2012.

2 Responses to “‘Twas The Week Before Christmas”

  1. “St Arnold himself..”
    Classic.
    laughing here in California.

  2. That.was.awesome! Particularly liked, “And he looked like a peddler, just much more rock-star.”

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