The Dry Tavern

Evenings at a half past five
A drinker's day begins.
I went into a local dive
To buy myself some gin.

The barkeep turned to me and said,
"Buy yourself a beer.
Either that or go to bed,
We gots no gin in here."

"Well how about some whiskey then?"
I asked. In turn, he said,
"We ran out at a quart' past ten,
How 'bout a beer instead?"

I frowned at him but still persisted,
"How 'bout some nice white wine?"
He smiled politely, but insisted,
"Not today. A beer is fine."

My patience now was wearing thin.
"A brandy would be nice."
"Not a drop," the barkeep grinned.
"But we've lots of beer on ice."

Quite suddenly my anger shot.
I shouted, "Listen here!
What exactly do you got
Besides that blasted beer?"

The barkeep grinned from ear to ear.
"Well, I'm afraid to say,
Our hefty, hearty, haughty beer
Is all we have today."

"What?" I asked, my breath now short.
"You have nothing else in stock?
No lauger, rum, stout, or port?
No scotches on the rocks?"

"Sorry," he then said to me.
How could it be true?
I sighed, defeated, finally.
"I guess a beer will do."

He reached under the countertop
As I sat, in a foul mood.
He looked at me and then he stopped.
"Uh oh," he said. "Not good."

"I'm sorry sir," he smiled and said.
"It seems we're beerless too."
Fed up, I quickly drew my blade.
And ran the barkeep through.

By Adriaan den Ouden