Brewer's Yeast
	by Anton of Winteroak
	(to the tune of "The Fryar and the Nun")

I was a farming man, hard work I did revere,

Until I came upon the Brothers of Saint Pyr.

We walked two hours one sunny morn to a tavern miles away,

I joined them for a flagon, and they taught me how to pray:

Compared to their good cheer, my farming life seemed pale.

Their special breed of piety inspired my second ale.

"A toast, a toast to Holy Ghost," the friars oft did pray.

The strength of their great faith, my friends, is more than I can say.

While drinking my third ale, we raised a merry song,

Our spirit filled the room, and we bellowed loud and long.

With bawdy songs and ballads, hymns I knew as a boy,

We sang of many earthly things God wants us to enjoy!

Our song grew into dance as I drained number four.

A dizzy turn we had, and I felt my heart soar.

We stepped and kicked and spun around, and sometimes we took flight;

At times my only balance was our Lord’s holy might!

We stopped to drink more ale, laughing at our dance,

Inviting God’s support in games of skill and chance.

The laughter made my cheeks get sore, hearing words at play;

They said they never worshipped in any other way.

I had to ponder now at these great men I admired,

I had to cool my throat with a new ale I acquired.

I pictured all the world at once, it caught me by surprise

To think of both the world of men and stars beyond the skies.

With half a dozen pints sloshing round my gourd,

I thought that I could hear the whisp’rings of our Lord.

I knew that he was happiest when we are happy too.

I drank another pint for him, for what else could I do?

The abbot asked if I would like to join these men,

So we celebrated brotherhood with pints eight, nine, and ten,

And then the newest friar took a nap upon the floor,

While my sturdy brothers worshipped for many hours more.

Chorus

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