The Legend of Frankin’s Ale
The time is right to tell a tale,
The age old tale of Frankin’s Ale.
Now Frankin was a brewer fair,
who brewed his ales with lots of care.
Finest barley and pungent hops
Was sure to make his ale the tops.
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Not long afore his fame was found,
When folk would come from miles around?
To sample ales so fine was rare
They’d sup as much as they would dare,
and every tankard raised in cheer
to make another one appear.
For many years his ale was good,
served bright and sparkling from the wood.
To tap the keg was Frankin’s pride,
Performed in ways most dignified.
He’d welcome one; he’d welcome all,
Until the sots would start to fall.
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And fall they would, onto their knees,
Begging Frankin: “More ale please!”
But things were changing all too fast,
And Frankin’s luck was not to last.
His well-loved ales were turning stale,
and how old Frankin wept and wailed.
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The devil he was riding by,
Stopped and listened to Frankin’s cry.
He saw his chance, and made a plan,
to rob the soul of this poor man.
The devil said: “Your ale’s will sell,
I’ll make you rich, as rich as hell.
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Just sign this pact, drawn up in blood,
And life for you’ll be very good,
Then after twenty years or so
I’ll come on back to claim your soul.”
But Frankin he was no-one’s fool,
and liked to play by his own rules.
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So sure enough, his life turned round,
With Frankin’s fame again re-found.
And through the years he’d formed a plan
to stop that diabolic man.
An ale he brewed and had it blessed,
and stored it safely for his guest.
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This brew it was a potion rare,
And brewed with Frankin’s usual care.
A mixture mashed from herbs and grain,
Designed to end the devil’s reign.
Soon enough the devil did rise,
to claim old Frankin as his prize.
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Now Frankin liked to brag and boast,
He raised his cup, the devil to toast;
And said: “Before my time is done,
I have in mind a little fun.
I have in stock a fine old ale,
It’s one that’s sure to curl your tail.
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Before you take my soul away,
A drinking game till dawn we’ll play.
Here’s a barrel, good and ready
Just one sniff will make you heady.”
So Frankin drew two draughts of ale,
He knew his plan just couldn’t fail.
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The devil took the ale and supped,
Draining the last drops from his cup.
And as he gulped the last drops down,
Frankin poured another round.
The devil’s eyes were filled with glee,
As Frankin’s ale made him merry.
And pretty soon, a barrel gone,
Old Frankin fetched another one.
That special ale that he had blessed,
Was brought and tapped afore his guest.
The devil reeling from delight,
Took a draught, not knowing his plight.
Frankin turned to the devil there,
and said to him without a care:
“If you manage to sup it all,
Only then shall you have my soul.
But if you fail, if you agree,
My soul will still belong to me.”
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The devil now too drunk to see,
Hissed and cackled as he agreed:
“But if I win, before day break,
I'll own your soul make no mistake.
Before the crowing of the cock
I’ll turn you into solid rock.”
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Draught after draught, the devil downed,
until at last, he almost drowned.
The herbs and blessing in the drink
Contrived to make the boozer shrink,
and took effect upon the drunk
How slowly then the devil shrunk.
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And as he shrunk his powers waned,
the redness from his skin was drained.
Frankin, checking the barrel found.
Plenty of ale still slopped around;
And when he was but five-inch-high,
the half full barrel was brought nigh.
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Taking the shive out from the side,
Frankin placed the devil inside.
Then quickly sealed it up again,
And in that barrel he’ll remain.
And at the rising of the sun,
Old Frankin knew that he had won.
So when you’re out and on the ale,
Just remember old Frankin’s tale;
And if you think your ale has kick,
It’s down to Frankin and Old Nick.
It’s not as daft as you may think.
Be careful of that demon drink.
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