Ode to the Old Monk... (dedicated to the hostel mania!)

The deep dark enigma
Within you stirs...
Contrary to popular belief,
You're a blessing in the disguise of a curse.
We drown our misery
In your warmth welcoming,
The sadness fades away,
The hurt loses its sting.

Your slender, narrow neck,
Your broad squarish base,
The ridges along the circumferance...
They all bring a smile to one's face!
The re-assuring waves of
Your mystic charms
Swirl slowly within
Like an enticing dance...

Some, it uplifts
To such a dizzying height,
Their heads swing, eyes glaze
Their 'spirits' have taken flight!
The heady aroma
When the cap is unscrewed
Can make my eyes go dreamy
And even chase away a PMSing mood...

So let's pour in the first peg
Over three cubes perfectly piled,
And be generous in our servings...
It's no fun when one's drink is mild!
Let's raise our glasses up high,
And toast this first one to the Old Monk so dear...
It tastes better than the uncleji-type whiskey...
And sure as hell better than beer!

To all the laughter that intertwined melodiously with the glass-and-ice clinking...
To all the melancholic times, when this magical spirit helped overcome the tears...
To all those bacchanalian nights that spilled over to the next day's drinking...
To all the friendship and camaraderie and slurred, giggly voices hissing "CHEERS!!!"