THE BRUICH LADDIE

I SIT HERE IN MY COMFY CHAIR, BESIDE ME A GLASS OF LIQUID GOLD.

ON SUNDAY WE VISITED A VICTORIAN GIANT,AND LISTENED TO IT’S STORY UNFOLD.

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IN THE BELLY OF THIS BEAST ALL WAS QUIET,IT’S MACHINERY WAS EERILY STILL.

IT’S SUNDAY OF COURSE ON ISLAY, MEN TOILING WAS NEVER GOD’S WILL.

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THE GRAIN , GRIST AND MASH ARE ABSENT, BUT THE PROCESS JAMIE EXPLAINED.

THE PEAT SMOKE USED FOR THE FLAVOUR, IS KNOWLEDGE GRATEFULLY GAINED.

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THEN INTO THE ROOM OF COPPER AND BRASS,WHERE THE MAGIC COMES TO THE FORE.

‘UGLY BETTY’ STANDS IN THE CORNER, THE MEN WHO FORMED HER WORK COPPER NO MORE.

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THE ‘BOTANIST ‘ GIN IS LOVINGLY BREWED, INSIDE OF THIS BEAUTIFUL STILL.

INFUSED WITH  FLOWERS AND HERBS, THE FORAGER PICKS FROM THE HILL.

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ACROSS THE YARD TO THE WAREHOUSE OF BARRELS, AND UP TO THE TOP OF THE STAIR.

THE DOOR OPENS TO THE SMELL OF OLD OAK, AND A HINT OF THE ‘ANGELS SHARE’.

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OVER THE YARD ONCE MORE, WITH A PROMISE OF SOME PRODUCE TO TASTE.

I’M TRYING TO MAINTAIN SOME DECORUM, AND NOT TRIP UP IN MY HASTE.

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THE WHISKY ON OFFER IS VARIED, SOME SMOKY, SOME FLORAL AND SWEET.

I’VE OPTED TO BUY ‘THE BRUICHLADDIE’,I’M MAYBE NOT MAN ENOUGH FOR THE PEAT.

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SO I SIT HERE A  RIGHT HAPPY FELLA, AS I PENCIL THIS SHORT BIT IF PROSE.

AND I KNOW IT’S CLASSED ‘ BREAKFAST WHISKY’, BUT IT’S AWFY BRAW ON THE NOSE!!!!!!!

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JOCK