Makers gathered in their masses,
Just like brewers at black masses.
Clever minds don’t plot destruction,
Sorcerers of cider’s construction.
In the tank the cider’s churning,
As B. Nektar keeps on turning.
Black Currant Cider for mankind,
Enlivening their thirsty minds…Oh lord, yeah!
Now in darkness, cider stops churning,
Currants in and all are yearning.
Now Death Unicorn has the power,
Thirsty minds want to devour.
Day of packaging, no more storing,
Through the tap Death Unicorn pouring.
It’s delicious, all have sworn,
Death Unicorn, laughing, raised his horn…
Oh lord, yeah!