Thanks for the thanks my friend,
I'll answer with a rhyme,
For how else could I ever respond to,
My poetic partner in crime?
I see that you're a brewer too,
With your share of hops,
And if you brew like you write poetry,
I'm sure your brews are tops.
I wouldn't worry about exploding bottles,
Sometimes the bottle wins,
Not content to be a mere cause,
When the ceiling spins,
They like to play a more direct hand,
Than sliding down your throat,
They don't want to just cause imbalance,
From the roof they gloat.
I must say these beers in Hell,
Are looking mighty nice,
With names like "Bastard" and "Night Owl",
All we need is ice.
For that we shall have to turn to Jonesy,
He will be there too,
He's sealed his place in the afterlife,
For he's a bastard too.
So, I look forward to the first Bastard Party,
In Hell we shall give classes,
In Poetry and Bastardry,
And dring from Unwashed glasses.                                                    

Cheers from the Land of Oz