After Dylan Thomas’s Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not pick up a sixer of this Cream Ale tonight,
Bad beer should be burned and thrown far, far away;
Rage, rage against the drinking of this blight.

Though wise men at their end know good beer is right,
Because their lips had tasted what a good beer is they
Do not pick up a sixer of this Cream Ale tonight.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
This failed beer should have tasted on a warm day,
Rage, rage against the drinking of this blight.

Wild men who gulped and sipped tasty brews in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved them on their way,
Do not pick up a sixer of this Cream Ale tonight.

Grave men, near death, who drink with blinding sight
No head, no flavor, like a foul macrobrew, not OK,
Rage, rage against the drinking of this blight.

And you, the brewer, there on the sad height,
Curse me no more with your foul brew, I pray.
Do not pick up a sixer of this Cream Ale tonight.
Rage, rage against the drinking of this blight.