Ale's a strong wrestler, 
                Flings all it hath met; 
                And makes the ground slippery, 
                Though it not be wet.
            
                Beer! Beer! Beer! 
                We students do adore you, 
                Beer! Beer! Beer!
                We love to  see you foam;
                When we  for wine abjure you,
                We miss  you we assure you,
                For it's  only with clear sparkling beer
                That students  feel at home.
            
                Come, sit we by the fireside 
                And  roundly drink we hear, 
                Till that  we see our cheeks all dyed 
                And noses  tanned with beer. 
                -Robert Herrick
            
                Here's to the best ale in the best  ale.
                -MR. PICKWICK, from Pickwick Papers
                   by Charles Dickens
            
                "Let No Man Thirst For Lack Of Real  Ale." 
                -Matchbook toast from 
                the  Commonwealth Brewing Co.,
                Boston,  Massachusetts
            
                Let's drink the liquid of amber so bright; 
                Let's  drink the liquid with foam snowy white; 
                Let's  drink the liquid that brings all good cheer; 
                Oh, where is the drink like  old-fashioned beer? 
                -A  popular nineteenth-century toast often
                adapted to the use of a particular brand 
                whose  name was substituted for 
                "old-fashioned"  in the last line.
            
                None so deaf as those who will not  hear. 
                None so  blind as those who will not see. 
                But I'll  wager none so deaf nor blind that he 
                Sees not  nor hears me say come drink this beer.
                -W. L. Hassoldt
            
                Show me a nation whose national  beverage is beer, and I'll show you an advanced toilet technology. 
                -Mark Hawkins
                in the New York Times, 
                September 25, 1977
            
                Who'd care to be a bee and sip 
                Sweet  honey from the flower's lip 
                When he  might be a fly and steer 
                Head first  into a can of beer?