WHISKY, DRINK DIVINE!

Whisky, drink divine! Why should drivellers bore us With the praise of wine While we’ve thee before us? Were it not a shame, Whilst we gaily fling thee To our lips of flame, If we could not sing thee? Whisky, drink divine, etc. Greek and Roman sung Chian and Falernian— Shall no harp be strung To thy praise, Hibernian? Yes! let Erin’s sons— Generous, brave, and frisky— Tell the world at once They owe it to their whisky— Whisky, drink divine, etc. If Anacreon—who Was the grape’s best poet— Drank our mountain-dew, How his verse would show it! As the best then known, He to wine was civil; Had he Inishowen, He’d pitch wine to the divil— Whisky, drink divine, etc. Bright as beauty’s eye, When no sorrow veils it: Sweet as beauty’s sigh, When young love inhales it: Come, then, to my lips— Come, thou rich in blisses! Every drop I sip Seems a shower of kisses— Whisky, drink divine, etc. Could my feeble lays Half thy virtues number, A whole grove of bays Should my brows encumber. Be his name adored, Who summed up thy merits In one little word, When he called thee spirits— Whisky, drink divine, etc. Send it gaily round— Life would be no pleasure, If we had not found This enchanting treasure: And when tyrant death’s Arrow shall transfix ye, Let your latest breaths Be whisky! whisky! whisky! Whisky, drink divine, etc. Joseph O’Leary (17— -1845?).