They Simply Call It Beer
It’s the nectar of the gods,
The best thing since sliced bread...
I’m talking about the brew,
Which has that frothy head...
They simply call it beer,
liquid amber gold...
It’s known to be a cure,
For ugliness I’m told...
On that hot and humid day,
You want to be the first...
To drink that ice cold beer,
And satisfy your thirst...
But as you look around,
You’d swear there was a drought...
Your mates have jostled in,
All waiting for your shout...
The laughter it grows louder,
As they drink this golden ale...
Their worries soon forgotten,
And some start talking Braille...
It’s when you see the Bottle O,
You’ll stop dead there in your tracks...
As you find the range is endless,
Just sitting in them racks...
There is every name imaginable,
With colours that delight...
Lager stout and ale,
And some that make you fight...
This little box of grog,
Can unite the whole damn nation...
Are you sure that bloke upstairs
Didn’t help with creation...
There’s one thing left to say,
When you drink you do not drive...
Cause I’d like to see you later,
And we want you to survive...
Len Newey 17/5/2011