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Jack Pulls the Perfect Pint

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 With calm, cool assurance,
He held the glass steady.
A trial of endurance,
Though patently ready.
Angled obliquely,
The glass never wavered,
The liquid poured sleekly,
So potently flavoured.
The caramel foment
Was arching and swirling,
He paused for a moment
To watch the fronds curling.
Time barely ticking,
The chaos abated.
Lips drily licking,
He patiently waited.
A head white and creamy,
Sat shining so proudly,
Aspiring and dreamy
And gleaming so loudly.
Beneath lay the porter
So black and enticing,
The dark, heavy water
A-topped with smooth icing.
And when he had judged it,
He filled the glass slowly,
Just carefully nudged it
With reverence holy.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 In Stuttgart was culled
The results of endeavour,
When Jack Charlton pulled
The most perfect pint ever.

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Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/jack-pulls-the-perfect-pint/