Sth Drink
scotch drink gie him strong drink until he wink, that's sinking in despair; an' liquuid to fire his bluid, that's prest wi' grief and care: there let him bouse, an' deep carouse, wi' bumpers flowing o'er, till he fets his loves or debts, an' minds his griefs no more. (solomon's proverbs, xxxi. 6, 7.) let other poets raise a fracas 'bout vines, an' wines, an' dru bacchus, an' crabbit names an'stories wrack us, an' grate : i sing the juice scotch bear mak us, in glass . o thou, my muse! guid auld scotch drink! whether thro' wimplin worms thou jink, or, richly brown, ream owre the brink, in glorious faem, inspire me, till i lisp an' wink, to sing thy name! let husky wheat the haughs adorn, an' aits set up their awnie horn, an' pease and beans, at e'en or morn, perfume the plain: leeze me on thee, john barley, thou king o' grain! on thee aft scotland chows her cood, in souple ses, the wale o'food! or tumblin in the boiling flood wi' kail an' beef; but when thou pours thy stro's blood, there thou shines chief. food fills the wame, an' keeps us leevin; tho' life's a gift no worth receivin, when heavy-dragg'd wi' pine an' grievin; but, oil'd by thee, the wheels o' life gae down-hill, scrievin, wi' rattlin glee. thou clears the head o'doited lear; thou cheers ahe heart o' drooping care; thou strings the nerves o' labour sair, at's weary toil; though even brightens dark despair wi' gloomy smile. aft, clad in massy siller weed, wi' gehou erects thy head; yet, humbly kind in time o' need, the poor man's wine; his weep drap parritch, or his bread, thou kits fine. thou art the life o' public haunts; but thee, what were our fairs and rants? ev'n godly meetings o' the saunts, by thee inspired, when gaping they besiege the tents, are doubly fir'd. that merry night we get the in, o sweetly, then, thou reams the horn in! or reekin on a new-year mornin in cog or bicker, an' just a wee drap sp'ritual burn in, an' gusty sucker! when vul gies his bellows breath, an' ploughmen gather wi' their graith, o rare! to see thee fizz ah i' th' luggit caup! then burnewin es on like death at every chap. nae mercy then, for airn or steel; the brawnie, banie, ploughman chiel, brings hard owrehip, wi' sturdy wheel, the strong forehammer, till blo' studdie ring an reel, wi' dinsome clamour. when skirling weanies see the light, though maks the gossips clatter bright, how fumblin' cuiffs their dearies slight; wae worth the name! nae howdie gets a social night, or plack frae them. when neibors a a plea, an' just as wud as wud be, how easy the barley brie t the quarrel! it's aye the cheapest lawyer's fee, to taste the barrel. alake! that e'er my muse has reason, to wyte her trymen wi' treason! but mony daily weet their weason wi' liquors nice, an' hardly, in a winter season, e'er spier her price. wae worth that brandy, burnin trash! fell sourony a pain an' brash! twins mony a poor, doylt, dru hash, o' half his days; an' sends, beside, auld scotland's cash to her warst faes. ye scots, wha wish auld scotland well! ye chief, to you my tale i tell, poor, plackless devils like mysel'! it sets you ill, wi' bitter, dearthfu' wio mell, or fn gill. may gravels round his blather wrench, an' gouts torment him, inch by inch, what twists his gruntle wi' a glunch o' sour disdain, out owre a glass o' whisky-punch wi' ho men! o whisky! soul o' plays and pranks! accept a bardie's gratfu' thanks! when wanting thee, what tuneless ks are my poor verses! thou es—they rattle in their ranks, at ither's a-s! thee, ferintosh! o sadly lost! scotland lament frae coast to coast! now colic grips, an' barkin hoast may kill us a'; for loyal forbes' charter'd boast is ta'en awa? thae curst horse-leeches o' the' excise, wha mak the whisky stells their prize! haud up thy han', deil! awice, thrice! there, seize the blinkers! an' bake them up in brunstane pies for poor damn'd drinkers. fortune! if thou'll but gie me still hale breeks, a se, an' whisky gill, an' rowth o' rhyme to rave at will, tak a' the rest, a about as thy blind skill directs thee best.