GambrInus was a gallant king–
Reigned once in Flanders old,
He was the man invented beer
As I’Ve been often told.
Of malt and hops he brewed his beer
And made it strong and good,
And some of it he bottled up
And some he kept in wood.
The golden crown upon his head,
The beer jug in his hand,
Beerdrinkers, see before ye here
Your benefactor stand.
Beerlovers, paint him on your shields,
Upon your beerpots paint —
‘Twere well a pope did never worse
Than make Gambrinus Saint.
And now fill every man his pot
Till the foam overflows;
No higher praise asks the good old king
Than froth upon the nose.
Bacchus I’ll honor while I live
And while I live love wine,
But still I’ll hold th’ old Flanders king
And beerjug more divine.
While I have wine night’s darkest shades
To me are full moonlight
But keep my beerpot filled all day
And I’ll sleep sound all night.
So blessings on th’ old Flanders king,
And blessings on his beer,
And curse upon the tax on malt,
That makes good drink so dear.
Written while walking from Schopfheim to Gersbach in the Black Forest (Baden), Octob. 6, 1854
From\m Poems, Chiefly Philosophical, in Continuation of My Book and a Half Year’s Poems, by James Henry, M. D
Dresden: C. C. Meinhold and Sons, 1856
Available on the Internet Archive: Link
This is one in a series of neglected poems taken from the Internet Archive.