Ode to Peat
Wee rough and crumbly, fibrous cake o' peat
I love your perfumed smoke, I love your heat.
In summer time we cut you from the bog
In winter time we burn you like a log.
Your heady haze adorns each village street;
All island people love the reek o' peat.
And what would all the whisky makers do
If they couldn't pinch a bit of smoke from you?
Without a tiny thread or wisp of smoke
All whisky drinkers cough and retch and choke
For real men need the rasping edgy stuff
And Islay women like a bit of rough!
A smoky flavoured dram cannot be beat
So here's to you - you handsome slab o' peat!