Barrel Ambition
He came to taste, but got confused—
Or maybe just a bit enthused.
We offered samples, just a splash…
He brought a chair—and drained the stash!
No swirl, no sniff, no spitting grace,
Just barrel-first and face-to-face.
He said, “Why bother with the glass?
I’m here to make this moment last!”
We tapped the cask, he pulled the plug,
Then hugged that barrel like a jug.
A sommelier he is not quite,
But, oh, he makes an alarming sight!
We watched him sip (well—gulp) with dread,
Convinced he’d wake up in our shed.
But lo and behold, he held his own—
Like Bacchus with a liver of stone!
He winked and said, “I pace my pour.
One barrel now… I’ll skip the next four!”
His cheeks were flushed, his mood was grand—
He barely even swayed to stand!
So raise your glass to those who dare
To love the joke—but keep it fair.
At Hiddencroft, we toast in cheer—
Sip slow, stay steady, and we’re glad you’re here.
Responsible Enjoyment Note: This poem is pure exaggeration for a laugh. At Hiddencroft, we serve measured tasting pours and we’re serious about responsible consumption. We’ll always slow or stop service if someone appears impaired, and we encourage guests to pace themselves, drink water, eat, and arrange a safe ride home if needed.
© 2026 Terry Housel. All rights reserved.
This work may not be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without prior written permission from the author, except for brief quotations in reviews or scholarly works.
