Scotch Drink
Robert Burns
Let other poets raise a fracas
´Bout vines, an´ wines, an´ drunken Bacchus,
An´ crabbit names an´ stories wrack us,
An´ grate our lug,
I sing the juice Scotch bear can mak us,
In glass or jug.
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 an´ Beans, at een or morn,
Perfume the plain,
Leeze me on thee, John Barleycorn,
Thou King o´ grain!
On thee aft Scotland chows her cood,
In souple scones, the wale o´ food!
Or tumbling in the boiling flood
Wi´ kail an´ beef;
But when thou pours thy strong heart´s blood,
There thou shines chief.
Thou clears the head o´ doited Lear;
Thou cheers the heart o´ drooping Care;
Thou strings the nerves o´ Labour sair,
At´s weary toil:
Thou even brightens dark Despair
Wi´ gloomy smile.
When neebors anger at a plea,
An´ just as wud as wud can be,
How easy can the barley-bree
Cement the quarrel!
It´s aye the cheapest Lawyer´s fee,
To taste the barrel.
O Whisky! soul o´ plays an´ pranks!
Accept a Bardie´s gratefu´ thanks!
When wanting thee, what tuneless cranks
Are my poor verses!
Thou comes -- they rattle i´ their ranks
At ither´s a--s!
Fortune! if thou´ll but gie me still
Hale breeks, a scone, an´ Whisky gill,
An´ rowth o´ rhyme to rave at will,
Tak’ a´ the rest,
An´ deal´t about as thy blind skill
Directs thee best.
Robert Burns
Let other poets raise a fracas
´Bout vines, an´ wines, an´ drunken Bacchus,
An´ crabbit names an´ stories wrack us,
An´ grate our lug,
I sing the juice Scotch bear can mak us,
In glass or jug.
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 an´ Beans, at een or morn,
Perfume the plain,
Leeze me on thee, John Barleycorn,
Thou King o´ grain!
On thee aft Scotland chows her cood,
In souple scones, the wale o´ food!
Or tumbling in the boiling flood
Wi´ kail an´ beef;
But when thou pours thy strong heart´s blood,
There thou shines chief.
Thou clears the head o´ doited Lear;
Thou cheers the heart o´ drooping Care;
Thou strings the nerves o´ Labour sair,
At´s weary toil:
Thou even brightens dark Despair
Wi´ gloomy smile.
When neebors anger at a plea,
An´ just as wud as wud can be,
How easy can the barley-bree
Cement the quarrel!
It´s aye the cheapest Lawyer´s fee,
To taste the barrel.
O Whisky! soul o´ plays an´ pranks!
Accept a Bardie´s gratefu´ thanks!
When wanting thee, what tuneless cranks
Are my poor verses!
Thou comes -- they rattle i´ their ranks
At ither´s a--s!
Fortune! if thou´ll but gie me still
Hale breeks, a scone, an´ Whisky gill,
An´ rowth o´ rhyme to rave at will,
Tak’ a´ the rest,
An´ deal´t about as thy blind skill
Directs thee best.
