Every year around Christmas since the beginning of this blog I’ve adapted Clement Clarke Moore’s “A Visit From Saint Nicolas” to my own devices usually with beer and blogging in mind. This year however, I found myself stuck as to what to do with the classic poem and after awhile of fruitcakelessly head beating I decided to tackle another holiday classic – Dr Seuss’ “How The Grinch Stole Christmas”. The basic idea behind my poem came quickly, but I’ll admit some sections were tougher to work out than with Moore’s prose. But for better or worse, I present to you the final product, and as always this is presented….
Every Who Down in Whoville liked Craft Beer a lot…
But the Grinch,who live on Mount Clydesdale, certainly did NOT!
The Grinch hated Craft Beer! With all it’s early to shelf seasons!
Now, please don’t ask why. No one quite knows the reason.
It could be that he had no beers that compared.
And that they were slowly taking big beer’s market share.
But I think that the most likely reason of all,
May have been that his heart was two sizes too small.
Whatever the reason, his heart or his brews,
He stood there on Mount Clydesdale, hating the Whos,
Staring down from his cave with a horrible, Grinchy frown,
At the warm lighted beer signs below in their town.
For he knew every Who in Whoville down there,
was now busy below, cleaning their Spiegelau(R) glassware.
“And they’re chilling their beers!” he snarled with a sneer,
“Tomorrow they’ll be drinking! It’s practically here!”
Then he growled, with his Grinch eyes feverishly glowing,
“I MUST find some way to stop craft beer from growing!”
For tomorrow, he knew, all the Whos far and near.,
Would wake bright and early. They’d open their beers!
And then! Oh, the hiss! Oh, the hiss!
All day long and not stopping!
That’s one thing he hated! The hiss!
The hiss of every bottle cap popping!
Then the Whos, young and old, would sit down to a feast.
And open rare beers recently released!
They would sip on Dogfish Head, and Avery’s The Beast.
Which was something the Grinch couldn’t stand in the least!
And THEN they’d do something he liked least of all!
Every Who down in Whoville, the tall and the small,
would stand close together, with Craft Beers they were drinking,
they’d raise up their glasses, and the Whos would start clinking!
They’d clink! And they’d clink! Their glasses of drink.
CLINK! CLINK! CLINK!
And the more the Grinch thought of what the next day would bring,
the more the Grinch thought, “I must stop this whole thing!”
“Why, for thirty some years I’ve put up with it now!”
“I MUST stop their craft beer drinking! But HOW?”
Then he got an idea! An awful idea!
THE GRINCH GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!
“I know just what to do!” the Grinch laughed in his throat.
And he made a quick Anhueser-Busch InBev hat and a coat.
And he chuckled, and clucked, “What a great Grinchy ruse!”
“I’ll convince them all that I make craft beer too!”
“All I need is a craft beer…” The Grinch looked around.
But, since they were expensive to make, he had none to be found.
Did that stop the old Grinch? No! The Grinch simply said,
“If I can’t make a craft beer, I’ll just steal theirs instead!”
So he called his dog, Buddy. Then he took some red thread,
and he tied a big horn on the top of his head.
Then he loaded empty bags on a ramshackle sleigh to the max,
and hitched up poor Buddy, to pull all of those sacks.
Then the Grinch said, “Giddap!” And the sleigh started down,
toward the homes where the Whos lay a snooze in their town.
All their windows were dark. Quiet snow filled the air.
All the Whos were all dreaming of craft beer without care.
When he came to the first little house on the Who’s square.
“This is stop number one,” the old Grinch evilly hissed.
And he climbed to the roof, empty bags in his fist.
Then he slid down the chimney. A rather tight pinch.
But, if Santa could do it, then so could the Grinch.
He got stuck only once, for a moment or two.
Then he stuck his head out of the fireplace flue.
On the table sat beer glasses, all in a row.
“These glasses,” he grinned, “are the first things to go!”
And he stuffed them in bags. Then the Grinch, very nimbly,
stuffed all the bags, one by one, up the chimney!
Then he slunk to the icebox to take every beer in the joint!
He took Elysian Brewing! He took their Blue Point!
In the blink of an eye, he cleaned out the fridge.
Why, that Grinch even took their last bottle of Breckenridge
He stuffed all the beer up the chimney, leaving not even dregs.
“And NOW!”, grinned the Grinch, “I will stuff up the kegs!”
And the Grinch grabbed a keg, and he started to shove,
when he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove.
He turned around fast, and he saw a small Who!
Little Cindy-Lou Who, who was about twenty- two.
She stared at the Grinch and said, “AB-Man, why?
Why are you taking my craft beer keg? WHY?”
But, you know, that old Grinch was so smart and so slick,
he thought up a lie, and he thought it up quick!
“Why, my sweet little lady,” the evil AB man lied,
“This seal gasket has a leak, right here on this side.
So I’m taking it home to my brewery, my dear.
I’ll fix it up there and then I’ll bring it back here.”
And his fib fooled the woman, she was easily mislead
and he gave her a Shock Top and he sent her to bed.
And when CindyLou Who went to bed with her beer,
he went to the chimney and stuffed the kegs up there!
Lastly he took all the bottle openers from the drawers!
Then he went up the chimney, himself, the old bore.
In their fridge he left nothing but Bud Light and some Coors.
Then He did the same thing with the other Whos’ beers,
stuffed them all up the chimney, into the morning so clear.
It was quarter past dawn, all the Whos, still a-bed,
all the Whos, still a snooze when he packed up his sled.
Packed it up with their bottles! The cans and the growlers!
The kegs and the sixtels! The casks and the crowlers!
To the top of Mount Clydesdale he went lickity split,
He rode with his load to the tiptop to dump it!
“Pooh Pooh to the Whos!” he grinchishly swore.
“They’re finding out now that their craft beer is no more!”
They’re just waking up! I know just what they’ll do!
They’ll realize there’s no craft beer in a minute or two,
Then the Whos down in Whoville will all cry BooHoo!”
“That’s a noise,” grinned the Grinch, “That I simply MUST hear!”
So he paused and the Grinch put his hand to his ear.
And he did hear a sound rising over the snow.
It started out low. Then it started to grow.
But the sound wasn’t sad! Why, this sound sounded merry!
It couldn’t be so! But it WAS merry! VERY!
He stared down at Whoville! The Grinch popped his eyes!
Then he shook! What he saw was a shocking surprise!
Every Who down in Whoville, the tall and the small,
Were clinking their glasses! Without any craft beer at all!
He HADN’T stopped Craft Beer from coming! IT CAME!
Somehow or other, it came just the same!
And the Grinch, with his grinch-feet ice-cold in the snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling, “How could it be so?”
It came with out Lagunitas or the Ballast Point I stole!
It came without Founders, or Golden Road!”
And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before!
“Maybe craft beer,” he thought, “doesn’t just come from a store.”
“Maybe craft beer…perhaps…means a little bit more!”
And what happened then? Well…in Whoville they say,
that the Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day!
And the minute his heart didn’t feel quite so tight,
He whizzed with his load through the bright morning light,
And he brought back their glasses and the beer for the feast!
And he, HE HIMSELF! The Grinch, poured the Avery Beast!
Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and Yuletide Greets from all of us here,
We hope that no Grinch, stole your craft beer!