To Maine:
A land to which a name has said it all
belying truth as it lies at our feet
and loyal like the hound or baying dog
we strive to act and honor with our feats
As brothers bound by slowly passing time
which leaves so little trace upon this place
and seeking something lost so long ago
escape one moment the endless human race
Water runs forever in decline
yet hope springs eternal in our cheers
life stops its rushing for a while
as jokes and laughs scare off the native deer
Tomorrow we will rest upon the grass
and throw the sacred die into the air
but never will we lay our beers to rest
nor stop the games for rabbits nor a bear.
Worry free and whimsy is the way
the MAINEly brews will surely find their end
when exiting our corpus in a stream
ne'er to be forgot just like a dream...
Camp Relief 2011
Andrew Hicks
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