Beer Booty

This came from one of them cabin tales last week.

Beer Booty

The story goes,
From long ago,
My eighth grade buds,
And me,
Stole some beer,
From the neighbor’s shed,
Went camping,
Just us three.

The booty was,
Four cases Schmidt,
The cans were steel,
Back then.
What wasn’t drank,
Around the fire,
We hid,
To drink again.

Most went,
In the river,
A six pack,
There and here,
And in the spring,
Of a secret cave,
We’d always have,
Cold beer!

Tucked away,
On a summer day,
After chores,
So hot and stinkin’,
We always had,
A cold one,
Down by the stream,
For drinkin’.

Reach down and find,
A six pack,
Roll one ‘cross your brow,
Wonder what the poor are doin’,
We’re pretty rich right now.

Now it’s quite,
A few years later,
But some Schmidt,
Still ain’t been found.
And somewhere,
There’s a six pack,
That needs to be drank down.
In the river,
It will sparkle,
When the sunshine,
Hits it so,
Reach down and grab,
A cold one,
Life is good,
Ya know!