In an inconspicuous building in an unassuming neighborhood...
The brewer keeps a rhythm all his own
while the others purpose to be known;
rhythm, rhyme, reasoning and heart-
all combine for what be known as 'art.'
All the while, the master at his craft:
grinding...brewing...at his post 'til aft.'
Do any recognize his artistry,
or is he just a part of peasantry?
Behind the counter, in a one-man show,
it is a place the spotlight does not go.
He is secure in his craft and call-
and grace is surely on his life to fall!
Passion-it is more than recognition;
joy-it is its own reward!
Skill-it is come from that combination.
For all three give thanks unto the Lord!