This poem was written by my good childhood friend and I about three decades ago. I thought it was time to share it on the day for which it was intended.
(To be recited with an Irish accent.)
The Screaming Zilgen
I walked right into Kelly's
To get me self a brew
So Kelly served up a Screaming Zilgen
And said "The joke's on you!"
Said I "What is this Zilgen"
"That you lay before me eyes?"
Said he "Not sure but they likes it"
"That is until they dies"
It was green as the old Irishman Kelly himself
And hot as a wet Leprechan
Without delay and with great malaise
I drove up north to Oregon
In Portland now in all the rage
There were Screaming Zilgens galore
So I flew myself back to the East Coast
And found there even more!
Can I not escape this Zilgen?
It screams, it slurps, it joggles
Be careful when you drink it, lads!
Make sure you're wearin' goggles
Alas, I returned to me watering hole Kelly's
Where I saw him lying on the table
His last words were "It's not so bad"
"But I'd forgotten to read the label!"
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