Oktoberfest: Twas The Night

Written by: Scott Holbrook, adapted from "A Visit from St. Nicholas" by Clement Clarke 1823

Oktoberfest: Twas the Night


Twas a night in Oktober, and all through the pub,

The taps were a-flowin’, and so was the grub;

The glasses were hung on the bar shelf with care,

In hopes thirsty patrons soon would be there;


The bottles were nestled all snug in the fridge,

Away from the growlers and potential damage;

The barkeep in his skullcap and I on my stool,

Had just settled in for a Friday night Yule;


When out on the street there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my stool to see what was the matter;

Away to the front door I flew like a flash,

And out to the street I made a mad dash;


The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,

Gave a lustre of midday to objects below;

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,

But a delivery truck and 8 kegs of fresh beer;


With a hipster-esq driver with tie-dye and beard,

I knew in a moment he’d probably be weird;

More rapid than chugging the kegs out they came,

And he whistled and shouted and called them by name:

“Now Dogfish! Now, Founders! Now Westbrook! And Rogue!

And Alesmith! And Wormtown! Jack’s Abby! And Stone!

To the top of the taps! To the top of the wall!

Now drink away! Drink away! Drink away all!"


There were rare beers that at tap takeovers fly.

When they meet with a beer snob, quickly go dry;

So up to the barstools the cicerones flew,

With a beer trade upcoming to a select few;


And all of a sudden I heard the door close,

With footsteps behind him and precious cargoes;

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

In the front door hipster driver came in with a bound;


He was dressed all in tie-dye from head to his foot,

And his clothes were all ripped, and covered in soot;

A palate of six-packs he dragged from his back,

And looked like a peddler just opening his pack;


His glasses-so thick rimmed! The t-shirt iconic,

His argyle socks were mismatched-how ironic!

His earplugs hung down to his neck to and fro,

And the beard on his chin was dark like cocoa;


The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and tight skinny jeans,

And dressed like somebody still in their teens;


He was skinny and tall, a lanky old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;


He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And hooked up the taps; then turned with a jerk;

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, the taps did freely flow;


He sprang to his beer truck, the deliverers did whistle,

And away they all ran like the down of a thistle;

But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight--

“Happy Oktoberfest to all, and to all a good night!”

 

-Written By: Scott Holbrook, September 2014