Who knew the Beerman could sing?
Drops of blood, that drop in mud
Out his scaled tar skin,
Grey and Bold, let truth be told
He needs no next of kin.
A ravished man, in a lavish land
He speaks of God again,
Rain and cold, let truth be told
He’s lost his voice within.
Who knew the Beerman could sing?
Ululate your eulogy
For the praise of a broken sun,
Hysteria is history
So drink ya beer-man!
Glory: that’s what he’s found
On the path of a righteous king,
Morning: does come around
So the drinking does begin.
Who knew the Beerman could sing?
Will Makin studies at Erasmus University College and writes a poem for Erasmus Magazine every month. He explains what the poem is about:
“Embedded in us all is a potential we rarely know that we have: the potential to achieve our goals. Insurmountable tasks, deadlines and crushing workloads might drive any person insane, but even in the depths of despair, when you work hard, you will see your potential come out. So never forget that when you’re down on your luck, like a tramp sleeping on the street, we all have a bit of greatness within.”
