We’re tasting whisky, this fine day

My lovely son and me

The nuances of taste are from

Distilleries by the sea

The Scottish Isles are where we start.

The special taste, we’ll learn

From a teacher who’s no fun at all

Just grey haired, pompous, stern.

From honey tones and heather hues,

And leather notes from Skye.

The peat. The malt! So on we sip

I think I’m getting high.

Orkney, Islay, Arran, Mull,

Jura, Lewis – all attend

They’re each a special scotch we’re told.

What matters is the blend

We sip, we taste, we do not swig.

The question – ice or no?

But honestly who gives a fig?

It’s alcohol … Hallo!

Some people having drunk too much

Can get quite melancholic.

But if the company is fine,

Good health, it’s alcoholic.

The glass is getting heavy  

And I’m feeling rather tired!

In fact, I’m feeling rather sad,

And may sing if I’m inspired.

How many have we tasted now?

Are there some we may have missed?

It’s time to go because I think

We’re both just slightly …..

in need of something to eat. It’s been a long day!

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