In a pub the other day, I saw a sterling English lad
Who pondered not a vapid thought: did creators create man?
I said, ‘My boy, this beer you see
Was fermented in a brewery,
Fermented much like you and me
As god’s master plan.’
The lad simply turned with ease
And said to me: ‘Now listen, geez,
If this god’s all he’s cracked up to be
And if he’s linked inextricably
To ale and beer and stout techniques,
How come my pint tastes of piss?’
Alas, I could not answer this.
Poem by Gwynfryn Thomas
Video by Sarina & James