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...THE LATE SINGER by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS A PRAYER FOR INDIFFERENCE by FRANCES (FANNY) MACARTNEY GREVILLE WHERE THE PICNIC WAS by THOMAS HARDY AUTUMN (1) by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI ELEGIAC SONNET: 4. TO THE MOON by CHARLOTTE SMITH |