Grab a beer and sing this to the tune of The First Noel

The first pale ale, the angels did say
Came to a bike store owner in Chico, CA
In Chico, CA, there was Cascade,
A hop so delicious, the best ever made.
Pale ale, pale ale, pale ale, pale ale,
Low is its number on th’ Lovibond scale.

He looked up and had a vision
A beautiful woman wearing a grin.
She held out her hand, and in it he spied
The genesis of most beer that you’ve tried.
Pale ale, pale ale, pale ale, pale ale,
Low is its number on th’ Lovibond scale.

He brewed up a beer, five gallons: no more.
As it bubbled away in the back of his store,
He thought of the woman: who could she be?
The goddess of brewing: t’was she, Ninkasi.
Pale ale, pale ale, pale ale, pale ale,
Low is its number on th’ Lovibond scale.

And from that one batch, an empire sprung forth.
Its reach grown so vast, now in Car’lina’s North.
From pale ale, and then, to the IPA,
All from that one night in Chico, CA.
Pale ale, pale ale, pale ale, pale ale,
Low is its number on th’ Lovibond scale.

Note: that Sierra Nevada’s Ken Grossman once owned a bicycle shop in Chico I’m sure of. The bits about the goddess and him being responsible for absolutely all beer in the US I may have taken some liberties on. Happy holidays,everyone.