It was the night of Noah,
The rain kept tumbling down…
The locals we all worried
As the floods came to their town…
They found themselves stranded,
The beer supply cut short…
A dilemma of uncertainty,
A travesty to sort…
The locals gathered in a mob,
This conundrum that they faced…
Must be settled quickly,
There was just no time to waste…
A plan was soon devised,
To keep the status quo…
To gather more supplies,
So that amber fluid would flow…
A shortcut through the back hills,
Which was made by cars and boats…
Would be the only way,
To quench their dry old throats…
So, this convoy of local legends,
Headed off on their campaign,
Through the back blocks of Beerwah,
Were they brave or just insane…?
After hours of frantic worrying,
There was a glimmer of hope…
As the first car of many,
Made it downy that muddy slope…
The local mob were ecstatic,
They welcomed them with a cheer…
As this convoy of local legends
Arrived back with all the beer…
The celebrations lasted long,
All was right again once more…
And townsfolk all rejoiced,
Let it rain, and let it pour…
Len Newey 2022