The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide

Famous Whisky Poems by Famous Poets

These are examples of famous Whisky poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous whisky poems. These examples illustrate what a famous whisky poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).

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The Lights of Cobb and Co

by Henry Lawson
 Fire lighted; on the table a meal for sleepy men; 

A lantern in the stable; a jingle now and then; 

The mail-coach looming darkly by light on moon and star; 

The growl of sleepy voices; a candle in the bar; 

A stumble in the passage of folk with wits abroad; 

A swear-word from a bedroom---the shout of "All aboard!"...Read more of this...

The Poet in the Nursery

by Robert Graves
 The youngest poet down the shelves was fumbling 
In a dim library, just behind the chair 
From which the ancient poet was mum-mumbling 
A song about some Lovers at a Fair, 
Pulling his long white beard and gently grumbling
That rhymes were beastly things and never there. 

And as I groped, the whole time I was thinking 
About the tragic...Read more of this...

The Demon Drink

by William Topaz McGonagall
 Oh, thou demon Drink, thou fell destroyer;
Thou curse of society, and its greatest annoyer.
What hast thou done to society, let me think?
I answer thou hast caused the most of ills, thou demon Drink. 

Thou causeth the mother to neglect her child,
Also the father to act as he were wild,
So that he neglects his loving wife and family dear,
By spending...Read more of this...

The Old Jimmy Woodser

by Henry Lawson
 The old Jimmy Woodser comes into the bar 
Unwelcomed, unnoticed, unknown, 
Too old and too odd to be drunk with, by far; 
So he glides to the end where the lunch baskets are 
And they say that he tipples alone. 

His frockcoat is green and the nap is no more, 
And his hat is not quite at its best;...Read more of this...

A Christmas Carol

by William Topaz McGonagall
 Welcome, sweet Christmas, blest be the morn
That Christ our Saviour was born!
Earth's Redeemer, to save us from all danger,
And, as the Holy Record tells, born in a manger.

Chorus --

Then ring, ring, Christmas bells,
Till your sweet music o'er the kingdom swells,
To warn the people to respect the morn
That Christ their Saviour was born. 

The snow was on the ground when...Read more of this...

68. The Holy Fair

by Robert Burns
 UPON 1 a simmer Sunday morn
 When Nature’s face is fair,
I walked forth to view the corn,
 An’ snuff the caller air.
The rising sun owre Galston muirs
 Wi’ glorious light was glintin;
The hares were hirplin down the furrs,
 The lav’rocks they were chantin
 Fu’ sweet that day.


As lightsomely I glowr’d abroad,
 To see a scene sae gay,
Three hizzies, early...Read more of this...

A Bush Christening

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 On the outer Barcoo where the churches are few,
 And men of religion are scanty,
On a road never cross'd 'cept by folk that are lost,
 One Michael Magee had a shanty. 

Now this Mike was the dad of a ten year old lad,
 Plump, healthy, and stoutly conditioned;
He was strong as the best, but poor Mike had no rest
...Read more of this...

90. Epistle to James Smith

by Robert Burns
 DEAR SMITH, the slee’st, pawkie thief,
That e’er attempted stealth or rief!
Ye surely hae some warlock-brief
 Owre human hearts;
For ne’er a bosom yet was prief
 Against your arts.


For me, I swear by sun an’ moon,
An’ ev’ry star that blinks aboon,
Ye’ve cost me twenty pair o’ shoon,
 Just gaun to see you;
An’ ev’ry ither pair that’s done,
 Mair taen I’m wi’...Read more of this...

Wine Bibber

by Robert William Service
 I would rather drink than eat,
 And though I superbly sup,
Food, I feel, can never beat
 Delectation of the cup.
Wine it is that crowns the feast;
 Fish and fowl and fancy meat
Are of my delight the least:
 I would rather drink than eat.

Though no Puritan I be,
 And have doubts of Kingdom Come,
With those fellows I agree
 Who deplore...Read more of this...

Bush Christening

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 On the outer Barcoo where the churches are few, 
And men of religion are scanty, 
On a road never cross'd 'cept by folk that are lost, 
One Michael Magee had a shanty. 
Now this Mike was the dad of a ten year old lad, 
Plump, healthy, and stoutly conditioned; 
He was strong as the best, but poor Mike had...Read more of this...

Hay and Hell and Booligal

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 "You come and see me, boys," he said; 
"You'll find a welcome and a bed 
And whisky any time you call; 
Although our township hasn't got 
The name of quite a lively spot -- 
You see, I live in Booligal. 
"And people have an awful down 
Upon the district and the town -- 
Which worse than hell itself the...Read more of this...

Forest Of Europe

by Derek Walcott
 The last leaves fell like notes from a piano
and left their ovals echoing in the ear;
with gawky music stands, the winter forest
looks like an empty orchestra, its lines
ruled on these scattered manuscripts of snow.

The inlaid copper laurel of an oak
shines though the brown-bricked glass above your head
as bright as whisky, while the wintry breath
of lines from Mandelstam, which you...Read more of this...

Five-Per-Cent

by Robert William Service
 Because I have ten thousand pounds I sit upon my stern,
And leave my living tranquilly for other folks to earn.
For in some procreative way that isn't very clear,
Ten thousand pounds will breed, they say, five hundred every year.
So as I have a healthy hate of economic strife,
I mean to stand aloof from it the balance of my life.
And yet...Read more of this...

The Bankrupt Peace-Maker

by Vachel Lindsay
 I opened the ink-well and smoke filled the room.
The smoke formed the giant frog-cat of my doom.
His web feet left dreadful slime tracks on the floor.
He had hammer and nails that he laid by the door.
He sprawled on the table, claw-hands in my hair.
He looked through my heart to the mud that was there.
Like a black-mailer hating his victim...Read more of this...

A Snifter

by Robert William Service
 After working hard all day
 In the office,
How much worse on homeward way
 My old cough is!
Barney's Bar is gaily lit,
 Let me stop there;
Just to buck me up a bit
 Have a drop there.

As I stand beside the screen
 Hesitating,
I have thought of how Noreen
 Will be waiting;
Baby Patsy in her lap
 Gay and laughing,
While at Barney's foaming...Read more of this...

The Errand

by Anne Sexton
 I've been going right on, page by page,
since we last kissed, two long dolls in a cage,
two hunger-mongers throwing a myth in and out,
double-crossing out lives with doubt,
leaving us separate now, fogy with rage.

But then I've told my readers what I think
and scrubbed out the remainder with my shrink,
have placed my bones in a jar as if possessed,
have pasted...Read more of this...

Hobo

by Robert William Service
 A father's pride I used to know,
A mother's love was mine;
For swinish husks I let them go,
And bedded with the swine.
Since then I've come on evil days
And most of life is hell;
But even swine have winsome ways
When once you know them well.

One time I guessed I'd cease to roam,
And greet the folks again;
And so I rode the rods to...Read more of this...

Mrs. Benjamin Painter

by Edgar Lee Masters
 I know that he told how I snared his soul
With a snare which bled him to death.
And all the men loved him,
And most of the women pitied him.
But suppose you are really a lady, and have delicate tastes,
And loathe the smell of whisky and onions.
And the rhythm of Wordsworth's "Ode" runs in your ears,
While he goes about from morning...Read more of this...

That V.C

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 'Twas in the days of front attack; 
This glorious truth we'd yet to learn it -- 
That every "front" has got a back. 
And French was just the man to turn it. 
A wounded soldier on the ground 
Was lying hid behind a hummock; 
He proved the good old proverb sound -- 
An army travels on its stomach. 

He...Read more of this...

O We Are The Outcasts

by Charles Bukowski
 ah, christ, what a CREW:
more
poetry, always more
P O E T R Y .

if it doesn't come, coax it out with a 
laxative. get your name in LIGHTS,
get it up there in
8 1/2 x 11 mimeo.

keep it coming like a miracle.

ah christ, writers are the most sickening
of all the louts!
yellow-toothed, slump-shouldered,
gutless, flea-bitten and
obvious . . . in tinker-toy rooms
with their...Read more of this...

296. The Five Carlins: An Election Ballad

by Robert Burns
 THERE was five Carlins in the South,
 They fell upon a scheme,
To send a lad to London town,
 To bring them tidings hame.


Nor only bring them tidings hame,
 But do their errands there,
And aiblins gowd and honor baith
 Might be that laddie’s share.


There was Maggy by the banks o’ Nith,
 A dame wi’ pride eneugh;
And Marjory o’ the mony...Read more of this...

The Ballad Of How Macpherson Held The Floor

by Robert William Service
 Said President MacConnachie to Treasurer MacCall:
"We ought to have a piper for our next Saint Andrew's Ball.
Yon squakin' saxophone gives me the syncopated gripes.
I'm sick of jazz, I want to hear the skirling of the pipes."
"Alas! it's true," said Tam MacCall. "The young folk of to-day
Are fox-trot mad and dinna ken a reel from Strathspey.
Now, what we want's a...Read more of this...

Hildrup Tubbs

by Edgar Lee Masters
 I made two fights for the people.
First I left my party, bearing the gonfalon
Of independence, for reform, and was defeated.
Next I used my rebel strength
To capture the standard of my old party --
And I captured it, but I was defeated.
Discredited and discarded, misanthropical,
I turned to the solace of gold
And I used my remnant of power
To fasten myself like a...Read more of this...

Last Week

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 Oh, the new-chum went to the backblock run, 
But he should have gone there last week. 
He tramped ten miles with a loaded gun, 
But of turkey of duck saw never a one, 
For he should have been there last week, 
They said, 
There were flocks of 'em there last week. 
He wended his way to a waterfall, 
And...Read more of this...

The Ballad of Cockatoo Dock

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 Of all the docks upon the blue 
There was no dockyard, old or new, 
To touch the dock at Cockatoo. 

Of all the ministerial clan 
There was no nicer, worthier man 
Than Admiral O'Sullivan. 

Of course, we mean E. W. 
O'Sullivan, the hero who 
Controlled the dock at Cockatoo. 

To workmen he explained his views -- 
"You need not...Read more of this...

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