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!