Wooohoooo!!! It's Masstoberfest Eve!
Twas the night before Masstoberfest, when out on Paul's stoop
Not a creature was stirring, not even a Yoop.
The smoker was stuffed full of wood with care,
In hopes that anyone soon would be there.
The pork butts were nestled all snug in their brine,
While sausages and briskets sat, aged like fine wine.
And Alice in her sweatshirt, and Paulie in only his cap,
Had just snuggled together for a well needed nap.
When out in the backyard there arose such a clatter,
A nekkid Paulie sprang from their bed to see what was the matter.
Away down the stairs he flew almost like a flash,
Out onto the porch with the paddle from his mash.
The moon on the breast of this bare chested fellow
Caused his neighbors to holler, scream and then bellow.
When, who before his squinty little eyes should appear,
But a Bird and a Mort, with kegs full of beer.
With Big John and Dakota sitting by the oven,
And Melana was there as the only homebrew woman.
More rapid than unicorns from the porch Paulie came,
They all whistled, and shouted, and called out rude names!
"Hey *********! hey, Masshole! hey, misguided brewer!
Get kneading! Get baking! get some meat on some skewers!
To the front of them bricks! but just watch out you big hick!
Please pant yourself! Before you burn your tiny wick!"
So bad is the smell that came from his smoker,
It caused the neighbors to contact their real estate broker.
But to Paulie's house all the cool brewers did fly,
To eat all his vittles and then wonder why.
And then, telling his story, Plasmaballs stole the room,
With stories of his nutsack almost burnt up in a plume.
And Lizardeye, the tent monkey and Daddymem snorted,
Laughing so hard that peeing their pants was barely thwarted.
Smurf was dressed in flannel, from his head to his foot,
A steinbier he was brewing, guaranteed to taste like soot.
That Melana's mash would stick, a fact we all did know,
Just an excuse to drop to her knees and show how she blows.
Paulie's eyes-how they twinkled! his winks were so merry!
His butt cheeks were like roses, his perverted stance was so scary!
His pizza paddle was covered in cornmeal so thick
And his "oven" was hard, 'coz it too is made out of brick.
The bone of a pig he held tight in his teeth,
Then the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He stood broad chested, a trident in hand,
And raised up his arms , to flaunt his sweat glands!
He was proud of his cooking, an obvious entertainment hero,
He laughed about his high school friends who thought he was a zero!
A flick of his wrist and a twist of the dough,
He created pizza so good, again Melana her mash she did blow.
He still stood their nekkid, an apron to wear everyone did wish,
To hide all his junk, and cover the scent of fish.
But it was the corpses that still did rot,
Under his big shed, who they were he gave not a thought.
He sprang like an elf to the top of his smoker,
And away we all flew from Paul the big joker.
We heard him exclaim, as he thrust out his junk,
"Go **** yourselves, you big bunch of drunks!"
Happy Masstoberfest Eve y'all!
