LET ithers sing o' sparkling wine Until their throats be sair, The "nectar" o' the gods divine Is but a devil's snare, Inspirin' fules in their mad mirth To spates o' senseless chatter; Na, mine's a sang o' modest birth, I sing guid Caller Water. Guid Caller Water, pure an' bricht, Sent richt frae Heaven's ain doors, A coolin' draught that keeps us richt, An' free frae drucken "scores." Nae headaches after it we ha'e, Enough oor wits to scatter; We're clear an' bricht as dewy spray After guid Caller Water. Sae, join my sang wi' a' your micht, Nor mind the senseless jibe, On water ye will ne'er get "ticht," Though gallons ye imbibe; Nor troubled be wi' doctors' bills, But grow baith rich an' fatter, If ye but drink the sparkling rills, That flow frae Caller Water. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO DANTE by VITTORIO AMEDEO ALFIERI CORINNA'S GOING A-MAYING by ROBERT HERRICK THE BANNER OF THE JEW by EMMA LAZARUS ON LAYING THE CORNER-STONE OF THE BUNKER HILL MOMUMENT by JOHN PIERPONT A VISION UPON [THIS CONCEIT] OF THE FAERIE QUEENE (2) by WALTER RALEIGH DRINKING ODE by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE QUATRAIN: HERRICK by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE SKY-GYPSY by WALTER BARDECK PSALM 137. 'BY THE RIVERS OF BABYLON' by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |