BEHOLD, the Guinness vats
Are of aluminum,
Shall I presume in ‘em
There’ll be no alteration in the brew —
Will Guinness still be just as “good for you”?

Such innovation rather
Leaves me skeptical,
That this receptacle
Surpasses oak
A hundred years in fettle;
What promised flavor
Lurks in airplane metal?

The road, good Dubliners,
That now you stray on
Will lead to rayon
In Irish tweed,
And, by the saints, more drastic —
Shillelaghs not of blackthorn
But of plastic.