Specific gravity

nerves racked, we measure
how strong our brew, i wonder...
six percent - success!

There once was a brewmaster poet...

In celebration of secondary fermenting, I've whipped up some bawdy limericks for everyone's enjoyment.

The Ballad of B.M.
If you run into Brewmaster Thompson /
Don't ask 'bout his brew-making johnson /
It mixes the grains /
But oft fails to drain /
Any question'ble jetsom and flotsam.

So cries the Brewmaster
Brewmaster Eric doth pout /
When'ere he hears tastemasters shout /
"Your siphon tubes' clipp'd /
And we hear you're equipp'd /
With a racking cane terribly stout."