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And liquor gude, io fire his blude,
That's prest wi' grief and care;
There let him bouse, and deep carouse,
Wi' bumpers flowing o'er,
Till he forgets his loves or 'debts,
And minds his griefs no more.
Solomon's Proverbs, xxxi. 6.

 

Let other poets raise a fracas
'Bout vines, and wines, and drucken Bacchus,
And crabbit names and stories wrack us,
And grate our lug;
I sing the juice Scots bear can mak us,
In glass or jug.

O thou, my Muse! gude auld Scotch Drink,
Whether through wimpling worms thou jink,
Or, richly brown, ream o'er the brink
In glorious faem,
Inspire me till I lisp and wink,
To sing thy name!

Let husky Wheat the haughs adorn,
And Aits set up their awnie horn,
And Pease and Beans, at e'en and 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 tumblin in the boiling flood
Wi' kail and beef;
But when thou pours thy strong heart's ⟨blood,⟩
There thou shines ⟨chief.⟩