‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the taproom
Not an object was stirring, not even a broom;
The mugs were stored in their cubbies with care,
In hopes that Overhang Imperial Porter soon would be there;
The brewers were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of Chinook hops danced in their heads;
Joel in his Patagonia, and Dan in a Mariners cap,
Had just settled their spins for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the brew deck there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.
Away to the window the team flew like a flash,
Tore open the door and breathed in the mash.
The head on the crest of a newly poured stout,
Gave notice as to what our next buzz was about,
When what to our bleary eyes did appear,
But a miniature cask and eight bottles of beer,
With a designated driver so lively and quick,
We knew in a moment we wouldn’t be sick.
More rapid than a wort chiller, Jesse’s favorites they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Fall Line! now, B-Bomb! Parabola and Victory at Sea!
On, Cozy Sweater! on, Jubelale! on, Bifrost and Tipsy!
To the top of the tank! to the top of the wall!
Now chug away! chug away! chug away all!”
As dry mouths quenched, coworkers exhaled relief;
A year of hard work behind them, that was their belief;
So up to the counter the imbibers they sat,
With pints full of dubbels, they drank with a chat.
And then, in a clinking I heard from the bar,
The shatter of Dane’s glass from not very far;
As Kristen drew in her head, and was turning around,
Down the hallway Ian came, dustpan abound.
A Northwest native, he was dressed all in plaid
And he tidied up the mess, not even mad;
A bundle of cans Julio had flung on his back,
And he looked like a saint just opening his pack.
Adam’s eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
Kimi shared the last Day Hike, her favorite, we know,
The lacing on the beer was as white as the snow.
The warm nectar we held behind our teeth,
Notes of toasted barrels, encircled heads like a wreath;
Devin reached for the Jameson, adding fire to his belly,
He slammed back the shot, they’d need to make haste to a deli.
Out of the SoDo darkness, an Uber XL arrived,
We couldn’t pile in fast enough, not even if we tried;
A blink of his headlights and a twist of the wheel
Soon our sober chariot sussed out our deal;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And drove us to Fonda la Catrina, a most delicious perk,
And laying his finger aside his automatic lock,
Giving a nod, up the street we started to walk;
With the flip of a blinker, he gave his phone a swipe,
And away they all flew, a Seattle beer loving stereotype.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”