I thought (and prayed) I’d never hear
A poem written to praise canned beer.
Tho’ the heft, and sweating can
Elicits raves from thirsty man.
The oozing foam; metallic pop!
I’m rolling now, can hardly stop.
Wish I’d entered this witty ditty
In Wednesday’ event in the Capital City.
For a reading series that’s off the wall
At the new Back Alley Gallery in St. Paul
Wednesday’s topic really will be
Based on Canned Beer Poetry.
This is Canned Beer Month, don’t you know.
No verse allowed about Bordeaux.
In Lowertown the group will meet:
262 East Fourth Street.
They’ll show how we folks on the prairie
Can make the mundane literary.
And we sure won’t be apologetic
When about our Lite, we wax poetic.