Zooks!

Zooks! Our time is gone. 

We’ve zipped and zagged, 

zoomed and zwacked our spirits through. 

Zymase guides the guilds to set the bar, 

but spirit guides the heart that leads the soul.

Through trials and harmonies sung not yet,

 Zing past apprehension’s arrows. 

At our zenith, be not zhlobs with zero heart, 

but let spirits zest with souls made whole. 

Built by sires with temperance and with time, 

fly your spirit in future’s light. 

Salute tomorrow to honored past. 

Ferment tomorrow’s new, 

And be blessed as honored ancients.