As it goes trickling down my throat:
A taste for which one of my ilk
Will always cast his vote.
I open up the jug
And drink it straight from yonder cask,
One sip, one taste, one giant glug:
A joy in which I basque.
The cow, the beans, the sugar, too,
That gave their all for me,
A taste which, as few others do,
Makes me feel glad and free.
So wondrous, so delightful,
So glorious indeed,
"His love for it is frightful,"
You must think, as you read.