Hops, Oh Wonderful Hops!

Hops, hops, oh wonderful hops
For you, our passion is true.
You flavor our beer
And at least once a year
We grind you up in a brew.

Your oils are essential
Your qualities diverse.
But, drink too much nectar
And our stomach might burst.

Hops are the gem
And the barkeepers friend
For keeping us stuck on that stool.
Cause if we order a beer
And the aroma is clear
With no citrus or spice to declare.
We'll throw it right back
On the bartender's lap
Then we'll get ourselves out of that chair.

Cascade! Chinook! Amarillo!
These are our favorite cheers.
For without these friends
We'd rather have the bends.
Our life would be moot
Things just wouldn't compute!

Not all might agree
But they will after three
Of our favorite hop bombs and brews
So go get some beer
There are some good ones we hear!
Just make sure that the hops do come through.

First of all, yes, we know we have serious issues. Who writes poems about hops? Well, we do.

Seattlest has gone a bit hop crazy recently. This is the time of year that hops are harvested, and this weekend we will finally be taking a trip out to Yakima to tour the hop fields (And some brewpubs, of course) for the first time. Many breweries will soon be making their "fresh hop" or harvest ales, which are beers brewed with hops pulled straight from the vines and transported as quickly as possible to the brewhouse. This Friday marks the start of Brouwer's "HopFest 2007", which will feature 60+ taps of hoppy brews.

With all of this hoppy goodness going on, we thought a little poem might be appropriate. Are we the only ones this crazy about hops?