There's always J G Whittier's The Brewing of Soma

The first verses of which read:

"The fagots blazed, the caldron's smoke
Up through the green wood curled;
"Bring honey from the hollow oak,
Brink milky sap," the brewers spoke,
In the childhood of the world.

And brewed they well or brewed they ill,
The priests thrust in their rods,
First tasted, and then drank their fill,
And shouted, with one voice and will,
"Behold, the drink of the gods!"

They drank, and lo! in heart and brain
A new, glad life began;
The gray of hair grew young again,
The sick man laughed away his pain,
The cripple leaped and ran.

"Drink, mortals, what the gods have sent,
Forget your long annoy."
So sang the priests, From tent to tent
The Soma's sacred madness went,
A storm of drunken joy.

Which would make a marvellous folk song, if the church hadn't already laid claim to the last six verses!

CHEERS
Nigel