“What do you think <br />The bravest drink <br />Under the sky?” <br />“Strong beer,” said I. <br /> <br />“There’s a place for everything, <br />Everything, anything, <br />There’s a place for everything <br />Where it ought to be: <br />For a chicken, the hen’s wing; <br />For poison, the bee’s sting; <br />For almond-blossom, Spring; <br />A beerhouse for me.” <br /> <br />“There’s a prize for every one <br />Every one, any one, <br />There’s a prize for every one, <br />Whoever he may be: <br />Crags for the mountaineer, <br />Flags for the Fusilier, <br />For English poets, beer! <br />Strong beer for me!” <br /> <br />“Tell us, now, how and when <br />We may find the bravest men?” <br />“A sure test, an easy test: <br />Those that drink beer are the best, <br />Brown beer strongly brewed, <br />English drink and English food.” <br /> <br />Oh, never choose as Gideon chose <br />By the cold well, but rather those <br />Who look on beer when it is brown, <br />Smack their lips and gulp it down. <br />Leave the lads who tamely drink <br />With Gideon by the water brink, <br />But search the benches of the Plough, <br />The Tun, the Sun, the Spotted Cow, <br />For jolly rascal lads who pray, <br />Pewter in hand, at close of day, <br />“Teach me to live that I may fear <br />The grave as little as my beer.”<br /><br />Robert Graves<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/strong-beer/
