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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116681" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Scotch Drink</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Gie him strong drink until he wink,<br> That's sinking in despair;<br> An' liquor guid to fire his bluid,<br> That's prest wi' grief and care:<br> There let him bouse, an' deep carouse,<br> Wi' bumpers flowing o'er,<br> Till he forgets his loves or debts,<br> An' minds his griefs no more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">  Solomon's Proverbs, xxxi. 6, 7.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let other poets raise a fracas<br>'Bout vines, an' wines, an' drucken Bacchus,<br>An' crabbit names an'stories wrack us,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> An' grate our lug:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I sing the juice Scotch bear can mak us,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> In glass or jug.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O thou, my muse! guid auld Scotch drink!<br>Whether thro' wimplin worms thou jink,<br>Or, richly brown, ream owre the brink,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> In glorious faem,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Inspire me, till I lisp an' wink,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> To sing thy name!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let husky wheat the haughs adorn,<br>An' aits set up their awnie horn,<br>An' pease and beans, at e'en or morn,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Perfume the plain:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Leeze me on thee, John Barleycorn,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Thou king o' grain!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On thee aft Scotland chows her cood,<br>In souple scones, the wale o'food!<br>Or tumblin in the boiling flood</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Wi' kail an' beef;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But when thou pours thy strong heart's blood,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> There thou shines chief.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Food fills the wame, an' keeps us leevin;<br>Tho' life's a gift no worth receivin,<br>When heavy-dragg'd wi' pine an' grievin;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> But, oil'd by thee,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The wheels o' life gae down-hill, scrievin,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Wi' rattlin glee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou clears the head o'doited Lear;<br>Thou cheers the heart o' drooping Care;<br>Thou strings the nerves o' Labour sair,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> At's weary toil;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Though even brightens dark Despair</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Wi' gloomy smile.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Aft, clad in massy siller weed,<br>Wi' gentles thou erects thy head;<br>Yet, humbly kind in time o' need,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The poor man's wine;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His weep drap parritch, or his bread,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Thou kitchens fine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou art the life o' public haunts;<br>But thee, what were our fairs and rants?<br>Ev'n godly meetings o' the saunts,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> By thee inspired,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When gaping they besiege the tents,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Are doubly fir'd.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That merry night we get the corn in,<br>O sweetly, then, thou reams the horn in!<br>Or reekin on a New-year mornin</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> In cog or bicker,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An' just a wee drap sp'ritual burn in,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> An' gusty sucker!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When Vulcan gies his bellows breath,<br>An' ploughmen gather wi' their graith,<br>O rare! to see thee fizz an freath</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I' th' luggit caup!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then Burnewin comes on like death</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> At every chaup.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nae mercy then, for airn or steel;<br>The brawnie, bainie, ploughman chiel,<br>Brings hard owrehip, wi' sturdy wheel,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The strong forehammer,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Till block an' studdie ring an reel,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Wi' dinsome clamour.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When skirling weanies see the light,<br>Though maks the gossips clatter bright,<br>How fumblin' cuifs their dearies slight;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Wae worth the name!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nae howdie gets a social night,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Or plack frae them.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When neibors anger at a plea,<br>An' just as wud as wud can be,<br>How easy can the barley-brie</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Cement the quarrel!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It's aye the cheapest lawyer's fee,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> To taste the barrel.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alake! that e'er my muse has reason,<br>To wyte hmy countrymen wi' treason!<br>But mony daily weet their weason</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Wi' liquors nice,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An' hardly, in a winter season,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> E'er Spier her price.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wae worth that brandy, burnin trash!<br>Fell source o' mony a pain an' brash!<br>Twins mony a poor, doylt, drucken hash,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O' half his days;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An' sends, beside, auld Scotland's cash</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> To her warst faes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ye Scots, wha wish auld Scotland well!<br>Ye chief, to you my tale I tell,<br>Poor, plackless devils like mysel'!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> It sets you ill,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wi' bitter, dearthfu' wines to mell,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Or foreign gill.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">May gravels round his blather wrench,<br>An' gouts torment him, inch by inch,<br>What twists his gruntle wi' a glunch</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O' sour disdain,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Out owre a glass o' whisky-punch</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Wi' honest men!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O Whisky! soul o' plays and pranks!<br>Accept a bardie's gratfu' thanks!<br>When wanting thee, what tuneless cranks</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Are my poor verses!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou comes-they rattle in their ranks,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> At ither's a-s!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thee, Ferintosh! O sadly lost!<br>Scotland lament frae coast to coast!<br>Now colic grips, an' barkin hoast</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> May kill us a';</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For loyal Forbes' charter'd boast</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Is ta'en awa?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thae curst horse-leeches o' the' Excise,<br>Wha mak the whisky stells their prize!<br>Haud up thy han', Deil! ance, twice, thrice!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> There, seize the blinkers!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An' bake them up in brunstane pies</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> For poor damn'd drinkers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fortune! if thou'll but gie me still<br>Hale breeks, a scone, an' whisky gill,<br>An' rowth o' rhyme to rave at will,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Tak a' the rest,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An' deal't about as thy blind skill</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Directs thee best.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Burns">Robert Burns</a><div class=q>
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