Would be pretty lame
In your craw if unleavened.
Would taste pretty tame
Lacking froth if unleavened.
The bubbles gone, flat ’s carrion
On the road sticking too long—
Beer unleavened.

You’d hold in your hand
Glass of soggy, flat bev’rage.
It would be so bland,
Glass of soggy, sad bev’rage.
Still wine’s OK; it’s made that way.
But like a bubbly cuvée,
Beer’s ’ffevescent.

Wine, you drink it down;
Wine is not bubbly.
Wine, though, from that part. . .
France—that’s where the yeast
Ain’t deceased.

Be strong and pour
A pint and more—
Listen to the bubbles roar.
Beer is leavened.

Good! Not at all tame
In your craws ’cause it’s leavened.
Would taste pretty lame. . .
Have no pop if unleavened.
The bubbles gone, flat ’s carrion
For most roadkill that’s too long. . .
Deer, skink, fest’erin’.