Uncomplimentary Drinks

“Look at the state of that, common as muck”

Says the White Zinfandel to the Chateau Latour

“No subtle hints of vanilla or toffee,

Just a vile reek of hops, an inelegant boor”

“At least I belong here” says Jessop’s Pale Ale

“I’m a treasured, traditional, full-bodied quaff,

you come over here with your airs and your graces

you just don’t belong here, why don’t you shove off”

“Charming, I don’t think” says Chateau Latour

“But just what I’d expect from an untutored yob,

no savoir faire, subtlety, taste, or refinement,

an obdurate, savage, inveterate slob”

“Unrefined I might be” comes the Jessop’s retort

“But I’d just like to say, if I’m able

you’re merely a hybrid of pureed grape pulp,

overpriced with a grandiose label”

“You’re nothing, mio amico” says the high-end pilsner

“But an inverted snob, and alas

your dimpled pint jug looks a little passe,

when compared to my small-bottomed glass”

“Just listen to you, with your fake designation,

you’re no more Italian than me,

you were bottled and brewed here in Bradford”

Says old Jessop’s, as blunt as can be

All the while the fine malt keeps its counsel

Quite immune to what anyone thinks

Supremely convinced, that it always will be

As Stevenson said, “King o’ drinks”