Young Lochinvar (1)/Scottish Whisky

SCOTTISH WHISKY.

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Ye social sons of Scotia’s isle,
Who love to rant and roar, Sir,
To drink, to dance, to laugh, to sing,
And hie withouten care, Sir;
Attend and listen to my lays,
’Twill make you blithe and friskie;
I sing, who dare my theme despise?
In praise of guid Scots Whisky.
O my cheering, care-dispelling,
Heart-reviving Whisky;
Thou brightens up the gloom of life,
That aft look dark and duskie.

Let Frenchmen o’ their bev’rage boast,
The juice of Gallic vine, Sir,
And Dons and Portuguese rehearse
The praises o’ their wine, Sir;
I don’t envy them with their tons,
Gi’e me a little caskie
O’ Caledonia’s nectar pure,
The real Scottish Whisky.
O my cheering, &c.

Jamaica Rum it’s but a hum,
So is the best Antigua;
And Holland’s gin no worth a pin,
Compar’d wi’ dear Kilbegie.
Whoever wants to take a house,
Or have a jovial pliskie,
They only need to wet their mou’s
Wi’ real Scottish Whisky.
O my cheering, &c.