| Robert Graves (1895–1985). Fairies and Fusiliers. 1918. |
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| 30. Strong Beer |
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| “WHAT do you think | |
| The bravest drink | |
| Under the sky?” | |
| “Strong beer,” said I. | |
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| “There’s a place for everything, | 5 |
| Everything, anything, | |
| There’s a place for everything | |
| Where it ought to be: | |
| For a chicken, the hen’s wing; | |
| For poison, the bee’s sting; | 10 |
| For almond-blossom, Spring; | |
| A beerhouse for me.” | |
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| “There’s a prize for every one | |
| Every one, any one, | |
| There’s a prize for every one, | 15 |
| Whoever he may be: | |
| Crags for the mountaineer, | |
| Flags for the Fusilier, | |
| For English poets, beer! | |
| Strong beer for me!” | 20 |
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| “Tell us, now, how and when | |
| We may find the bravest men?” | |
| “A sure test, an easy test: | |
| Those that drink beer are the best, | |
| Brown beer strongly brewed, | 25 |
| English drink and English food.” | |
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| Oh, never choose as Gideon chose | |
| By the cold well, but rather those | |
| Who look on beer when it is brown, | |
| Smack their lips and gulp it down. | 30 |
| Leave the lads who tamely drink | |
| With Gideon by the water brink, | |
| But search the benches of the Plough, | |
| The Tun, the Sun, the Spotted Cow, | |
| For jolly rascal lads who pray, | 35 |
| Pewter in hand, at close of day, | |
| “Teach me to live that I may fear | |
| The grave as little as my beer.” | |
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