The Bottom Line: If you like liquorice of dark hue, this will be a tasty snack for you. If that is to you a nasty thought, this is liquor best left unbought.
Alright, by now you’re probably wondering, "What’s up with these fairy-ass rhymes?" Well, after reposting that Weekly World News review en poéme (that’s Mark-Latin), I found myself wanting to write another one in the same manner. What can I say? Sometimes I’m just a romantic. And what better to be romantic about than one of your favorite alcoholic drinks? So, here it is, my little poem on Jagermeister.
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Sometimes, when there arises a special occasion
I look for a drink of the refined persuasion
For example, when my college buddies graduate
And we have reason to kick back and celebrate
Today is such a day, and it’s liquor that I seek
For at Moo U, ‘tis the last night of finals week
Several friends, now alumni, will be here no more
When time gently closes the current year’s door
So, like good students, we’ll tip back "a few"
And wish them the best in whatever they may do
But for such an occasion, beer just won’t cut it
If my friends crack one open, I’ll quickly shut it
Today we shall get blitzed on something more fancy
(And I’ll punch your nose if you call me Nancy)
"Why, what is this miracle drink?", you ask?
It’s the one that comes in a green-glass flask
The label on front sports a cross and a deer
And though this may strike you as a little queer
Take one swig, and you’ll have nothing to say
Though not by your choice; it just works that way
For it leaves in your throat a burning sensation
As though causing a most unwelcome inflammation
But after you’ve taken another heavenly hit
You’ll say to yourself, "This stuff is the shit!"
That is, of course, if you truly like the flavor
Enough to obtain the buzz that you’ll savor
And this isn’t likely, if black liquorice you hate
Which is true of most people that I’ve met to date
But take it from me (who some would call a sicko)
When you drink this stuff, you must know the tricko
Serve (and drink) only ice-cold; ass-cold, in fact
If you’re looking to keep your stomach on track
It should also be said, as a word to the wise
That your inebriation this drink will quickly rise
I once knew a guy, who felt Jager’s full power
When he downed an entire pint in just a half hour
He didn’t puke, although that may have been better
For he got more than the warmth of the alcohol sweater
At a graffiti party that night, his memory did go
(He’s damn lucky he didn’t sleep with some ho!)
The next morning he awoke, his stomach not his bud
Found himself fully dressed, and jacket caked with mud
Fortunately he was in his room, the door shut tight
But he couldn’t remember jack about the previous night
His friend across the hall had done a pint just as fast
Although JD had been the choice for his own repast
His memory was no better, and it took a third friend
To fill them in on the previous night’s rear end
They had been stumbling around, talking quite silly
There had been bitches and ho’s -- ha, no, not really
There had been pool, and darts, and even Panchero’s
With moronic antics that belonged on rancheros
But the story grows long, and you catch my drift
That it’s not often wise to drink with such thrift
Especially if underage, like these fellas did be
(And I swear to God that first one wasn’t me!)
Well, I’ve told you all about the thing I’m reviewing
And if you ever taste it, I hope you’re not spewing
So if you don’t think black liquorice tastes like feet
Then give Jagermeister a try -- you're in for a treat
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