THE GETTYSBEER (HIC) ADDRESS

Four pours and seven beers ago our brewers brought froth
with this incontinence, a new notion,contrived in a laboratory, and medicated to a prone position, that all men should imbibe a sequel.

Now we are enraged by a great ad-ful war, tasting whether that notion, or any notion so contrived and so medicated, can be a cure.
We are lured by the “Great taste-less filling” ad bore.

We have come to eradicatea potion that we swig, as a final drinking place for those that brewed their wares that that there notion might drink.

We are altogether burping and slurring as we do this.

But in a lager sense, we can not masticate—we can not constipate—we can not swallow—this ale. The brew men, sober and drunk,
who staggered here, have masticated it,
far above our gold shower to addle or disgust.

The bars will little know or long remember what we drank here,
but we can always regret what we did here.

It is for us the living, if you can call it that, to be medicated
here to the great flask remaining before us---that from these empty flasks we take increased libation to that Coors for which we gave
the last tall measure of ingestion.

That we beer high-life revolve that these empties shall not have
dried in brain.

That this lotion, in my bod, shall have a new batch of brewski,----and that drunkeness of the people, Budweiser people, former people,
shall not perish from the thirst.