Oh, bitter brew, you are so cheap,
Forced to take you to the ticking heap.
You smell like pine and some BO,
I can tell you are a serious foe.
A clear pale eye and really nice head,
Its not a preview of the taste I dread.
Yer not a lager lover's friend,
With 65 IBUs that never end.
A resinous, piney, and fierce attack,
That makes the flavor such a whack..
From Simcoe, Centennial to Chinook, bite,
You turn the palate to a state of fright.
You speak of juicy, soft clear pale,
But you are fire, an old school nail.
Grapefruit skin dank rubber herbaceous green,
The sharpest hop-trap my tongue has seen.
You sting the gums making my senses ring,
A resin-coated, hop-forward, wild thing.
No malt can hide beneath your jagged edge,
Your bracing bite is your solemn pledge,
Of dry, clean finishes and tongue-clinging oil,
The noble work of intense boiling toil.
So hail the bitter! The sharp! The bold!
One of the rudest IPA that I can hold.