Brandy

Far north in the Shire, where the winters are dire
Where the breeze chills you right to the bone
Where the young dress up warm to conform with the norm
And the gaffers all mutter and moan
There’s a need to feel tender and toasty
There’s a need for that warm soothing glow
So they boil and they brew, all the four seasons through
Always the hard liquor flow

A Poem about Ale

Here's a tale about ale
Be it dark, be it pale
So head, without fail
To the Inn to drink ale!

Made with barley and hops
With some froth on the top
Drink up the last drop
You won't want to stop!

Drink it from a small mug
Or from a large jug
Just take a long glug
It's like having a hug!

Now buy one more beer
The bar is quite near
The price is not dear
It will fill you with cheer!