Meadcraft

For my guild, I once transcribed the entire drunken rant of my dear Khoranidan friend, Gukuyul. Behold the spontaneous poetry concerning the fine craft of mead tasting.

"Of the finest spring you cannot fail what some may bitch and wail over what might be a wetter liquid to the tongue, but I for one cannot stand dry mead in a similar way I'd not bleed thy own steed. Let not the brand of honey foil your preconception, for 'tis not the key ingredient. I help myself on a lack of rosemary despite what many lust for in mead and lie instead in the brew ginger, removing any brine that may linger. This is when I spend hours brewing. Some bastard wanks refuse to add egg yoke, but I suspect only because they are broke. When I tip my glass I want nutmeg to surge through me, but the blend sizzles only just splendid with cinnamon, but still it be anon a sin to reject egg. Mistake me not, dear Meriumae, as you sit there and taste, honey is prevalent, correct?

"Only for the blend, Meriumae, only for the sweet combination of tender things, which would be sweet-briar along with the lender and, do your cheeks brighten with that flavour. Lest your memory not fail, pure Dragon Tooth spring water means mead life. Now there you have a dessert strain with a fine colour that offends nothing, but to your femininity, would only so much as squire you through bliss. I can only so much as imagine this, granted, but mead is not a powerful substance made of sweat and bitterness. Its cider, its pepper, its grapes -- damn the Cycle-bound wretch that rejects cider in their brew -- surely stir you, Meriumae, but only so long as the drink is not dry like piss-stinking elf-brewed dross."

[Transcribed 826 PC, 22nd of Chaos]