That Bock Brew Day

Hank Speaks… So Listen by Hank Bienert
Here’s a little report about the recent brewoff

That Bock Brew Day
He which had no stomach to this great task, Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse; We would not tarry in that man’s company
That fears his fellowship to brew with us. This day is call’d That Bock Brew Day.

He that outlived this day, and came safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d, And rouse him at the name of Homebrew. He that did survive this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, And say “To-morrow is That Bock Brew Day.” Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, And say “These wounds I had on That Bock Brew Day.”

Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, But he’ll remember, with advantages, What feats he did that day. Then shall our names, Familiar in his mouth as household words – Georgine and Hank Bienert, Frank Ballero, Marcel the Brewmaster and Brandi Charbonnet, Ron LaBorde, Tom Lay, John Foley, Norman and Gloria Crassons, Greg Hackenberg, Bob Annoni, Rick Doskey, Judson Wheeler, Chester Vidacovitch, Mike Retzlaff, and that noble beast Rusty who boldly removed spilled grain and beer and gave fond greetings and whenever he did sit closely offering succor upon that day’s labors, did always leave a blessed badge of white fur.

And the libations were cold and necessary and copious as was the home brew proffered by Bob and Tom. The Morning repast and generous lunch from Georgine’s kitchen skills and Norman’s pie constructions shall continue to refresh and sustain whenever we revisit the sweet memories of That Bock Brew Day. This story shall the good man teach his son; And That Bock Brew Day shall ne’er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered – We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his sweat and makes his beer with me shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition; And gentlemen in the nearby lands now-a-bed Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whilts any speaks That brewed with us upon That Bock Brew Day

This came to me when I was channeling a namesake, Henry (the Fifth)
…I think there was a play (with a speech) written about him by W Shakespeare. –

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