The Humours of Whiskey

Let your quacks and newspapers be cuttin' their capers About curin' the vapours, the scratch, and the gout With their medical potions, their serums and lotions Upholdin' their notions, they're mighty put out Who can tell the true physic to all that's pathetic And pitch to the divil cramp, colic, and spleen? And you'll know it, I think, if you take a big drink With your mouth to the brink of a jug of poitín

So stick to the cratur, the best thing in nature For sinkin' your sorrows and raisin' your joys! Oh, what botheration! No dose in the nation Can give consolation like poitín, me boys!

No liquid cosmetic to lovers athletic Or bodies pathetic can give such a bloom As a sweet by the powers in the gardеn of flowers Ever gave thеir own bowers such a darlin' perfume And this liquid so rare, if you willingly share To be takin' your hair when it's frizzled and dead Oh, the sod has the merit to yield a true spirit So strong it'll shake all the hairs from your head

The stick to the cratur, the best thing in nature For sinkin' your sorrows and raisin' your joys! Oh since its perfection, no doctor's direction Can cleanse the complexion like poitín, me boys!

While a child in me cradle, my nurse with her ladle Was fillin' my mouth with an ocean of pap When a drop from her bottle fell into my throttle I stumbled and capered clean out of her lap On the floor I lay crawlin' and screamin' and bawlin' Till me mother and father were called to the fore All sobbin' and sighin', they feared I was dyin' But soon found I only was cryin' for more

So stick to the cratur, the best thing in nature For sinkin' your sorrows and raisin' your joys! Oh Lord, how they'd chuckle, if babes in their truckle They only could suckle on poitín, me boys!

Through my youthful aggression to times of the 'pression Me childhood's impression still clung to me mind And at school or at college, the basis of knowledge I never could gulp till with whiskey combined And as older I'm growin', time's ever bestowin' On Erin's potation a flavor so fine And, howe'er they may lecture on Jove and his nectar Itself is the only true liquid divine

So stick to the cratur, the best thing in nature For sinkin' your sorrows and raisin' your joys! Oh Lord, it's the right thing, for cartin' and fighting They're nowt so exciting as poitín, me boys!

Come guess me this riddle: what beats fifes and fiddles? What's hotter than mustard and milder than cream? What best wets your whistle? What's clearer than crystal? What's sweeter than honey and stronger than steam? What'll make the lame walk? What'll make the dumb talk? The elixir of life and philosopher's stone? And what helped Mister Brunnell to build the Thames Tunnel? Oh, wasn't it poitín from auld Inis Eoghain?

So stick to the cratur, the best thing in nature For sinkin' your sorrows and raisin' your joys! Oh, Lord, it's no wonder if lightnin' and thunder Were made from the plunder of poitín, me boys!

You maidens pathetic with lovers athletic For liquid cosmetic you can't beat the drop With a glow to your cheek, it'll make your heart leap It'll quiet a stallion and cure an old cob At the mouth you would drool, be reduced to a fool You'd kick up your heels and you'd peel to the buff And then he'd be pathetic while you'd be athletic If only you'd take a few drops of the stuff

So stick to the cratur, the best thing in nature For sinkin' your sorrows and raisin' your joys! For there's nothin' like whiskey to make maidens frisky It soon separates all the men from the boys!