Sea-Gift
The first
box struck the shore
Whisky!
It sat in the foam and spray
A
Hebridean rhapsody from Fortune
From sea’s lamentable brine,
From sea’s lamentable brine,
A given
luxury.
Meanwhile, Neptune stretched out on a reef
Scratching
his scaly thigh.
‘They are
due a smidgeon of pleasure,
What with
the rain that never ceases
Pounding
their chilly acres.’
Crofters came hurtling through the tide
Wizened or
young, with the great thirst on them
Even the scrunts of bushes, the sodden sheep
Looked up
from their pious immersion in the hum-drum
Saying, ‘ochone, there will come a day of reckoning
Mark well, there is no pleasure without pain
Tè mhòr le
beagan uisge
A large measure of whisky with a little water
There will be the Devil to pay e’er
this day’s done.’
Sheena
Blackhall
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