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A Scotsman who spells
Whisky with a n ‘e’,
should be hand cuffed
and thrown head first in the Dee.
In the USA and Ireland,
it’s spelt with an ‘e’
but in Scotland
it’s real ‘Whisky’.
So if you see Whisky
and it has an ‘e’,
only take it,
if you get it for free!
For the name is not the same
and it never will be,
a dram is only a real dram,
from a bottle of ‘Scotch Whisky’.
Stanley Bruce.
20th April 2004
Dufftown Clock Tower
Plaque on the tower
New Stills being made in Rothes by Forsyths
www.forsyths.com
A mini still which was made by Forsyths for an
exhibition
Strathisla Distillery Keith
Ardmore Whisky. (English versions).
Poem part 1 of the 4 parts below was written
(In Doric) for a competition in a well-known Scottish magazine, and I
won. However, two weeks had passed and my bottle of whisky (The prize)
hadn’t been delivered, so I wrote a second poem raising my concern.
After another week had passed I wrote a third poem, again raising
concern about the missing bottle. Finally, the bottle arrived, and I
wrote the fourth poem, I hope you enjoy them.
(These poems were all originally written in
Doric, and have been rewritten in English and changed slightly, Doric
versions will also available to read).
PART 1 – A Chap at the Door.
What like today, you feeling pally?
Why, you going for a swally?
A small nip of the amber nectar,
I said goodbye to the wife, and on her cheek, I pecked her,
We were out of the house,
Like two dogs on heat
In a flash, standing at the bar,
Thinking isn’t life sweet.
A malt for me,
What are you for?
Oh, nothing else will do,
But a dram of Ardmore.
Stan Bruce.
PART 2 - Waiting for my Bottle.
My wife said;
“There’s somebody at the front door”,
“What like Stan, I’m round for a wee dram,
Out of your bottle of Ardmore”.
“Oh, you know I’d give you a dram,
You know I would,
I would give you a dram Rab,
If only I could”.
“I was fair looking forward to a dram,
Stan you’re a miserable old git”.
“Rab, don’t be like that,
The Postman hasn’t brought it yet!”
“Oh,
I thought you were keeping it all to yourself.”
“Now you know, I’m not like that,
There’ll be a dram for my father, and you as well.”
“That’s if it ever appears,
I’m getting fair worried,
As times a passing,
And it feels like years.”
“Maybe the Postman, will bring it this week.”
Yes, you just hang in there Stan,
If it comes before the weekend’,
That’ll do us both just grand!”
Stan Bruce,
18th August 2018.
PART 3 - Still Waiting for my Bottle.
A chap at the front door:
“Stan, I’ve come for something,
Golden, smooth, and fine,
Yes, I’ve come for something’,
That tastes divine”.
Would ‘at be some of my,
Awful fine tasting honey?
“Come on Stan,
You’re not being funny”.
“Yes, your close,
But, you know what I’m after,
A wee nip,
Of your amber nectar”.
Well Rab,
Would you settle for a beer?
Because the amber nectar, you’re after,
Still isn’t here!
“Still not here!
Stan, you’re having a laugh,
Stuff your beer,
I’m off!”
Now sit down Rab,
I’m not winding you up,
Tea total the day,
I’ll get you a cup.
So, we sat ourselves down,
A cup o’ tea we did pour,
And dreamt of my bottle,
Of golden Ardmore.
Stan Bruce,
27th August 2018.
PART 4 - A Toast to Ardmore.
Ring! Ring!
Hello Rab, what like today?
Not bad, what like yourself?
Rab, get yourself round here, and don’t delay,
For the bottles arrived in the mail.
We both looked at the carton,
It was a sight for sore eyes,
A map of the distillery,
With a golden eagle soaring in the sky.
It reads: a single malt,
Light, with silky peat,
Vanilla, honey, and spice,
Oh, Stan, that’ll taste so sweet.
Hey Stan, you know what I’m hoping’,
You’re going to hurry up, and crack her open!
Rab, hold your horses, I’ll get the glasses.
Crack! It’s open, and may God bless us!
Rab, take a smell,
Oh Stan, that’s just divine,
Never before have I smelt,
Anything so fine!
A toast to the distillery,
Rab, lift your glass,
Yes, and to the Leopard mag,
And their bonnie editor lass.
You know what Stan,
They could put your poem on every carton o’ Ardmore,
I’ve never seen anybody,
Think about doing that before.
You know this Rab, that would make me an awful happy chappy,
But, I’d need a free bottle or two,
Yes, Stan, a couple of bottles a month,
That, I think would do!
OMG, the bottle’s nearly done,
Remember a dram for your father Stan,
Yes Rab, lift your glass,
And give a toast, to a great man!
Stan Bruce,
17th September 2018.
Ardmore Whisky. (Doric versions)
Poem part 1 of the 4 parts below was written
(In Doric) for a competition in a well-known Scottish magazine, and I
won. However, two weeks had passed and my bottle of whisky (The prize)
hadn’t been delivered, so I wrote a second poem raising my concern.
After another week had passed I wrote a third poem, again raising
concern about the missing bottle. Finally, the bottle arrived, and I
wrote the fourth poem, I hope you enjoy them.
(These poems were all originally written in
Doric, and have been rewritten in English and changed slightly, Doric
versions will also available to read).
A recording of the 4 Ardmore Whisky poems
Photo of the poem from the Whisky and Soda,
Gastropub, Goldgasse 9, Wiesbaden, Germany
PART 1 – A Chap at the Door.
Fit like min, ye feeling pally?
Foo, ye gan fer a swally?
A wee nippie o’ ‘e amber nectar,
I said cheerio tae the wife,
An’ on her cheek I pecked her.
We wir oot o’ ‘e hoose,
Like twa dowgs on heat,
In a flash stannin’ at ‘e bar,
Thinkin’ isnae life sweet.
A malt fer me,
Fit are ye fer?
Oh, naething else will dee,
But a dram o’ Ardmore!
Stan Bruce.
PART 2 - Waitin’ fer mi Bottle.
Mi wife said;
“ ‘ere’s sumbody at ‘e front door”,
“Fit like Stan, I’m roon fer a wee dram,
Oot o’ yer bottle o’ Ardmore”.
“Oh ye ken I’d gie ye a dram,
Ye ken I wid,
I wid gie ye a dram,
If only I cood”.
“I wis fair lookin’ for’d tae a dram,
Stan yer a miseable auld git”.
“Rab, dinna be like ‘at,
‘e Postie hisnae broucht it yit!”
“Oh,
I thoucht ye wir keepin’ it a’ tae yersel.”
“Noo ye ken, I’m nae like ‘at,
‘ere’ll be a dram fer mi faither, an’ ye asweil.”
“ ‘at’s if it iver appears,
I’m getting’ fair worried,
As times a passin’
An’ it feels like years.”
“Maybe ‘e Postie, will bring it es wick.”
Aye, ye jist hing in ‘ere Stan,
If it comes afore ‘e wicken’,
‘at’ll dee us baith jist grand!”
Stan Bruce,
18th August 2018.
PART 3 – Still Waitin’ Fer Mi Bottle.
A chap at the front door:
Stan, I’ve come fer somethin’,
Golden, smooth, an’ fine,
Aye, I’ve come fer somethin’,
That tastes devine.
Wid ‘at be some o’ mi,
Affa fine tastin’ honey?
Come on Stan,
Yer nae bein’ funny.
Aye yer close,
Bit, ye ken fit I’m efter,
A wee nippie,
O’ yer amber nectar.
Well Rab,
Wid ye settle fer a beer?
Because ‘e amber nectar, yer efter,
Still isnae here!
Still nae here!
Stan, yer ha’ein’ a laugh,
Stuff yer beer,
I’m aff!
Noo sit doon Rab,
I’m nae windin’ ye up,
Tea total ‘e day,
I’ll get ye a cup.
So we sat oorsel’s doon,
A cuppie o’ tea we did pour,
An’ dreamt o’ mi bottle,
O’ golden Ardmore.
Stan Bruce,
27th August 2018.
PART 4 – A Toast tae Ardmore.
Ring! Ring!
Hello Rab, fit like ‘e day?
Nae bad, fit like yersel?
Rab, get yersel roon here, an’ dinna delay,
Fer ‘e bottles arrived in ‘e mail.
Wi baith looked at ‘e cairton,
It wis a sicht fer sair een,
A map o’ ‘e distillery,
Wi a golden eagle fleein’ abeen.
It reads: a single malt,
Licht, wi silky peat,
Vanilla, honey, an’ spice,
Oh, Stan, at’ll taste sae sweet.
Hey Stan, ye ken fit I’m hopin’,
Yer ganna hurry up min, an’ crack her open!
Rab, hud yer weesht, I’ll get ‘e glasses.
Crack! It’s open, an’ may God bless us!
Rab, tak a snifter,
Oh Stan, at’s jist devine,
Niver afore hiv I smelt,
Onything sae fine!
A toast tae ‘e distillery,
Rab, lift yer glass,
Aye, an’ tae the Leopard mag,
An’ their bonnie editor lass.
Ken fit Stan,
They cud pit yer poem on ivery cairton o’ Ardmore,
I’ve niver seen onybidy,
Think aboot deeing ‘at afore.
Ken ‘es Rab, ‘at wid mak me an affa happy chappy,
Bit, I’d need a free bottle or twa,
Aye, Stan, a couple o’ bottles a month,
We’d seen pit ‘em awa!
OMG, ‘e bottle’s nearly deen,
Mine a dram fer yer faither Stan,
Aye Rab, lift yer glass,
An’ gie a toast, tae a great man!
Stan Bruce,
17th September 2018. |
