In the Midwest, 'neath the sky's high crest,
Lies a village full of humble nest,
So pricey 'tis to dwell there, we jest,
More like sipping wine than ale, at best.
Hark! Hilary's storm, a fearsome guest,
Bringeth wind and rain, a brutal test,
Whilst sun-bathed California takes a rest,
In God's brewing vat, a stormy fest.
Behold a man, on a noble quest,
With a perfect pen, he is obsessed,
'Tis mightier than sword, his jest,
Like divine mead in a scribe's behest.
