Listen my pretty, and you will hear,
a story of drinking less craft beer.
A tale so exciting and so intense,
like sitting in pain on a white picket fence
where the pickets will stick you right in the rump.
You’ll have visions of murdering Donnie Prump.
The reason for your anger and your ire
is the moron’s demand that we all burn a tire.
He claims the air is far too clean
and that it’s not really air unless it can be seen.
So he orders up soot and poisonous smog
as he sits and tweets like a bump on a log.
“Drinking is wrong,” he says with a sneer,
“so I’m cutting production of all craft beer.”
The brewers respond with a monstrous howl,
while Prump orders the extinction of the spotted owl.
The brewers decide on a right sinister plan
to expunge the earth of this despicable man.
The stage is set to drown him in hops
and they’re helped by an army of angry cops
who’ve seen his crimes and heard his lies
and are happy to help silence this man they despise.
The cops circle the despot with their police cars
and NASA scientists offer help, “maybe send him to Mars?”
The brewers send truckloads of hops and barley
and wait for the signal from their leader named Charlie.
When the word comes down, the trucks dump their loads,
covering the despot in hops and blocking the roads.
Nobody can reach him to allow him to breathe
so they turn away quietly, and silently leave.
The use of the hops caused a reduction in brew
but the drinkers applauded because they knew
the removal of Donnie was worth the sacrifice,
and they knew they could brew something quite tasty with rice.
Though many had wanted to use a cudgel or bludgeon
they accepted the hops because they were in high dudgeon.
The drinkers the brewers, the cop and the con
all wanted to off him, to get rid of Don.
So that’s the story of cutting back on libation
when there’s a higher calling of saving the nation.
Lest you think this story is just wrong and capricious,
please understand fully that I’m being facetious.
I’d never seriously suggest wasting a hops flower
on a lowlife scum, not for a minute or an hour.
Truly. Just being facetious.