It's not very well metered but then it really wasn't intended to be.
Just a really long bit of doggeral.----
There once was a gathering of dwarves oft seen,
Drunken from the moment they could worship the mug;
Twas not a liquor they did not love-
Be it the ale dark or the wine so clean;
If it were rich down they would chug.
Then a passerby did say unto the dwarves:
"Well proper dwarves you surely be;
But this mountain brew is weak to be sure;
Get yourselves down to the wharves,
Off over the ocean to try orcish whiskey!"
Honor insulted to think one would speak so;
The dwarves drew themselves so high;
And with beards bristling they did say:
"Then across the sea we go!
Straight t' the blasted orc lands as the crows fly!"
So away they did go, hammer and stein in hand;
And many an adventure did they brave;
But nothing could prepare them for what they saw-
Deep in the pits of that dark orcish land;
Not a thing could their impared sanity save.
For before them frolicked the orcs-
Drunk and pleasant as you please;
Having a brewer's festival in honor of Thrall-
They sang joyously of spoons and forks-
And the orcish whiskey flowed with ease.
A mighty battle the dwarves then fought;
Axe to blade and stein to skull;
But so drunk were they all no blow did meet;
Mostly they simply stumbled about a lot-
And to their horror they found..mugs no longer full.
The dwarves paused in horror and looked down...
Steins turned slowly over the ground;
And many a beard soon turned damp-
Not a drop of dwarven brew fell before the orcish town;
There was not a bit to be found!
Lamenting this cruel twist of fate;
The drunken dwarves wept on orcish shoulders;
Finding no solace in this time of despair.
Yet then down did come the wall of hate;
If only to spare rust upon orcish spaulders.
Dwarven steins were seized and filled;
With orcish whiskey they soon foamed;
And the drunken warriors saluted brave dwarves;
One could not help but honor ones willing to be killed-
Just to taste the whiskey for which they had roamed.
The fair went on for a day and a night;
Though they could not understand each other;
For a moment they put aside their rage and hate;
As with beer goggles in place they saw no reason to fight;
Before the god of whiskey orc and dwarf were as brother!
So across the ocean the dwarves returned;
Enlightened and inspired if far more sea sick-
And to the brewery they promptly went-
In each now the dwarven spirit burned;
To brew this rich drink so quick!
Within Ironforge one may yet buy;
If they look to the proper place-
The famed orcish whiskey so divine;
Sure to make your senses fly;
And straight to the floor you'll race!
Ten to one that guy'll never request a poem of me again.
