LEGACY OF SAINT ARNOLD
by Rudyard Kipple (nom de plume)
November 2006
As boldly told, in times of old, pilgrims bore without complaint
The remains revered of a man so dear, he'd soon become a saint.
No one now knows the thirst that slowed them in their forward motion
Or that never ending flood of suds that meant a church promotion.
This Bishop of Metz had no regrets, when he laid his head to die,
For proof at last had come to pass, of providence on high.
The sweat of man had fit God's plan to slowly engineer,
Out of barley and hops, and a few dew drops, the miracle of beer.
May you rest in peace, your soul release, oh holy man of God
You found a way to hold at bay with your diving rod,
The miasma known as cholera that drops health to its knees,
And those filthy fish whose acts blemish the pools with dire disease.
Now water is our friend again, since it's been made anew;
Transformed to make a refreshing break within a grainy stew.
Adding a bit of inebriant only increases the survivors;
And for years to come the need for some designated drivers.
We must confess, we are so blessed to live in modern times,
With water pure, we needn't endure a death before our prime.
But oh to know, times long ago that quenched a thirst so true,
And to behold, old Saint Arnold, and that ever full mug of brew.
Read more about Saint Arnold, Patron Saint of Brewers.
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