Sipped with a fair and festive friend;
And even milk hath flavour, too,
When sun-kissed milkmaids hand it you.
Beer, in a large resounding can,
Befits a coarser type of man,
While some rejoice in spirit pure,
And others in a faked liqueur.
But none of these, nor any wine,
Hath present claim to praise of mine,
Hath e'er produced the gasp and thrill