I do believe I’ve had enough

Of Halloween-inspired beer.

I started with an open mind

But now I find these products queer.

If hops and barley weren’t enough,

The ghosts and goblins usher in

A cornucopious array

Of “pumpkin” everything but gin.

It’s not like I would ever turn

This autumn merchandise away.

My paws would tremble violently

Without a sip to start the day.

Elysian and Fernie ale,

Lost Souls and Schadenfreude—

My parents wouldn’t buy them all;

At first I was a bit annoyed.

But as we sampled one or two,

Then three and four and five,

The odds seemed most uncertain that

The hops and gingered cloves would jive.

Essentially I just want booze,

Not cinnamon or nutmeg musk,

Nor allspice-dusted candied yams—

Just alcohol from dawn to dusk.

For this my girlfriend says I’m shite,

Unworthy of a hug or cuddle.

That’s fine, I say, but what about

A beer that’s not a flavor muddle?

And then the bottles, people, look!

Each with a creepy pumpkin head…

They scare the shit out of this bear,

Redoubling his existing dread.

Perhaps purveyors of these brews

Don’t realize that I live in fear?

With Scary, Fluffy, and Miss P,

Why would I want scares from my beer?

If only talismanic power went

Along with this autumnal fare;

I’d ward off Fluffy and his twin,

Apocalyptic Scarybear.

Instead I reek not just of malt

But ginger barf and pumpkin tart.

If Mum gets just one rancid whiff,

An evil Maytag ride might start. (OMG!)

So goodbye, spicy cookie notes

Confounding my October ale.

You’ve left your dark kavorka* on

My moustache, chin, and furry tail.

When Halloween has come and gone,

I’ll give these funny beers a pass

Unless, again, I find myself

With DTs chomping at my ass.

*thanks again, beerbecue