Brewery tour

rattle, roar, hiss, and squeak,
the cans like bullets fly,
wheezing, humming, through the week,
through the shift we do or die. . .

shouts and whistles,eardrums ring,
the brewery runs and snorts,
foaming fillers pour the beer
in cans, and kegs, and quarts. . .

clanging, banging, breaking glass,
the heady scent of brew,
honking horns, forklifts rush,
our peaceful days are few. . .

fussing, griping, sometimes laughing,
we try to keep it clean,
we hate it, we love it, 'cause its
the damndest thing we've ever seen. . .

1991