spoon·er·ism ˈspo͞onəˌrizəm/ noun

A Brewer's Spoonerism 

A tong, tong lime ago a funken drool lived alone in a cittle lottage.
One day, while wondering pays to become fich and ramous, an idea flame to him like a cash.

“I will grew up some brog”, he said.

“Yea! I will grew up some brog so tood and gasty that beer lovers everywhere will fink like drish and I will become fich and ramous”.

So he bought a brused uewhouse, some vainless stats, a ton of marley balt, pounds of hellet pops, and some yried drewers beast.

Then he started grewing brog. He grewed brog day and night without slopping to steep. He grew up so much brog that the vainless stats overflowed and filled his cittle lottage with feer and boam. In fact, there was so much feer and boam that he blew his chick brimney right off his cittle lottage and the feer and boam strowed into the fleets, down a lassy grane, and into a cristine prick.

In the end, the funken drool lost his cittle lottage, paid fany mines, and was punned by the shown teople.

The storal of the morey is,
If you want to grew up some brog

Don’t plan on becoming fich and ramous (especially if you are a funken drool)

By Chuck Crabtree, Head Brewer, NoCoast Beer Co., Oskaloosa, Iowa