brought home my AD3 today

Trouble Brewing

Claude Morris

He came walking through the forest in the summer's glaring sun

In his left hand was a bottle, in the other was a gun.

His beard was wild and bushy and his hair was shaggy too

And his old straw hat was full of holes where tufts of hair came through.

I stood and waited for him as he came with steady stride

And I studied his appearance till he halted by my side.

He wasn't old, nor was he young, but somewhere in between,

And his heavy eyebrows almost hid his eyes of greyish green.

Then he handed me the bottle. “You must have a drink” he said,

And I heard him cock the rifle he presented at my head.

“Yes, take a swig of my home brew and you will be the first

To have a chance of trying out my recipe for thirst”.

The rifle never wavered, and it pointed straight at me,

And that close-up gaping barrel was a nasty thing to see.

I lifted up the bottle with a very shaky hand

And a silent prayer to Heaven as I followed his command.

I swallowed twice and God Above! That brew had come from Hell!

I know my head exploded and it drowned my dying yell.

I fell upon the dusty ground and grovelled there in pain

Vowing he could shoot me but I wouldn't drink again.

When pain and shock receded and I staggered to my feet,

It was awful! It was awful! I could hear my voice repeat.

Then I heard the brewer speaking and he said “Yes, I agree!

Now give me back the bottle and you hold the gun on me”!