(At the age of 8 I wrote my first poem. For weeks I had asked and pleaded for a sip of my father’s after-dinner beer. Finally, I wore him out, and got my sip. The next morning I started writing in my head as I walked around the house. Here it is, fresh and unimproved.)

I want a drink of beer,
Not whiskey, but beer.
Beer is cool and refreshing,
Not bitter, but quenching.

It hits the spot with me,
Not like that rot whiskey.
I want a drink of beer,
That good Burgermeister Beer!