Where's my #$%@ beer?!

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the pub
Not a creature was drunk, all dry as dead shrubs.
The empties were stacked in the corner with care
In hopes the taxicabs soon would be there,
For regulars were nestled all snug in their booths,
Shouting out blasphemes and such things uncouth,
And my man with no lager and I with no ale
Had just started in on a sorrowful wail,
When out in the lot there arose such a clatter,
I stumbled from my stool to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I tripped like a drunk,
And fell on my face in a puddle of funk.
The moon on the hoods of our salt-coated cars
Gave the fuzzy impression of far-away stars,
When, what to my watery eyes should appear
But a Great Lakes semi truck and ten cases of beer!
With a red-faced old driver with an eye-winking tic,
I knew in a moment this was Santa’s schtick.
Quicker than UPS guys his deliverers ran
And he whistled and hooted and called to his men,
“Now Guinness, now Orval, now Sixpoint and Avery!
On Harpoon, on Yuengling, on Left Hand and Dundee!
To the top of the ramp to the back of the bar,
Then dash away, dash away, and bring my cigar!”
I drew back from the window, gaping in awe
When Santa appeared, spitting “Pshaw!”
He was dressed in a coverall, his head to his feet,
Though right ‘round his belly the zipper didn’t meet.
He had a broad face and two sticky-out ears
That turned red when he’d had a few too many beers.
He dismissed my wonder and went straight to work
Hooking up kegs and pulling pints with a smirk.
And laying a finger along side his beer
And giving a nod, out the front door he veered.
He sprang to his truck cab, to his men gave a whistle,
Who jumped in the truck with agility and hustle
I heard him exclaim, before I could think,
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a tall drink!”