An’ liquor guid to fire his bluid,
That’s prest wi’ grief an’ care:
There let him bowse, and deep carouse,
Wi’ bumpers flowing o’er,
Till he forgets his loves or debts,
An’ minds his griefs no more.
Solomon’s Proverbs, xxxi. 6, 7. I.
A paraphrase from Hugh Blair’s The Grave, p. 8.
Let other Poets raise a frácas
‘Bout vines, an’ wines, an’ drucken Bacchus, drunken
An’ crabbed names an’ stories wrack us, torment
An’ grate our lug: vex, ears
5 I sing the juice Scotch bear can mak us, drink, barley
In glass or jug.
O thou, my MUSE! guid auld SCOTCH DRINK! good old
Whether thro’ wimplin worms thou jink, winding, frisk
Or, richly brown, ream owre the brink, froth over
10 In glorious faem, foam
Inspire me, till I lisp an’ wink,
To sing thy name!
Let husky Wheat the haughs adorn, hollows
An’ Aits set up their awnie horn, oats, bearded
15 An’ Pease an’ Beans, at een or morn,
Perfume the plain:
Leeze me on thee, John Barleycorn, blessing on thee
Thou king o’ grain!
On thee aft Scotland chows her cood, often, chews, cud
20 In souple scones, the wale o’ food! soft, pick
Or tumbling in the boiling flood
Wi’ kail an’ beef; greens
But when thou pours thy strong heart’s blood,
There thou shines chief.
25 Food fills the wame, an’ keeps us livin; belly
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, go, careering
30 Wi’ rattlin glee. noisy joy
Thou clears the head o’ doited Lear, muddled knowledge
Thou cheers the heart o’ drooping Care;
Thou strings the nerves o’ Labor-sair, sore
At’s weary toil;
35 Thou ev’n brightens dark Despair
Wi’ gloomy smile.
Aft, clad in massy, siller weed, often clothed
Wi’ Gentles thou erects thy head;
Yet, humbly kind, in time o’ need,
40 The poorman’s wine:
His wee drap parritch, or his bread, drop, porridge
Thou kitchens fine.
Thou art the life o’ public haunts;
But thee, what were our fairs and rants? without, merry-makings
45 Ev’n goodly meetings o’ the saunts, saints
By thee inspir’d,
When, gaping, they besiege the tents,
Are doubly fir’d.
That merry night we get the corn in,
50 O sweetly, then, thou reams the horn in!
Or reekin on a New-Year-mornin steaming
In cog or bicker, bowl, jug
An’ just a wee drap sp’ritual burn in, small drop
An’ gusty sucker! tasty sugar
55 When Vulcan gies his bellys breath, gives, bellows
An’ Ploughmen gather wi’ their graith, gear
O rare! to see thee fizz an’ fraeth bubble and froth
I’ the lugget caup! two-handled jug
Then Burnewin comes on like Death blacksmith
60 At ev’ry chap. stroke
Nae mercy, then, for airn or steel: no, iron
The brawnie, bainie, Ploughman-chiel, sturdy, boney, fellow
Brings hard owrehip, wi’ sturdy wheel, over hip
The strong forehammer,
65 Till block an’ studdie ring an’ reel, anvil
Wi’ dinsome clamour.
When skirlin weanies see the light, squalling infants
Thou maks the gossips clatter bright. makes, chatter, cheerfully
How fumbling coofs their dearies slight; fools
Wae worth the name! woe betide
Nae Howdie gets a social night, no midwife
Or plack frae them. coin
When neebors anger at a plea, neighbours
An’ just as wud as wud can be, mad/wild
75 How easy can the barley-bree -brew
Cement the quarrel!
It’s ay the cheapest Lawyer’s fee,
To taste the barrel.
Alake! that e’er my Muse has reason,
