Drinkin Drams  George Outram

(The Tippler’s Progress)

He once was holy

An melancholy

Till he found the folly

O singin psalms.

He’s now as red’s a rose,

An there’s pimples on his nose,

An in size it daily grows

By drinkin drams

He ance was weak,

An couldna eat a steak

Without gettin sick

An takin qualms;

But now he can eat

At ony kind o meat,

For he’s got an apeteet

By drinkin drams.

He ance was thin,

Wi a nose like a pen,

an hauns like a hen,

An nae hams;

But now he’s round an tight,

An a deevil o a wight,

For he got himself put right

By drinkin drams.

He studied mathematics,

Logic, ethics, hydrostatics,

Till he needed diuretics,

To lowse his dams;

But nou, without a lee,

He could mak anither sea,

For he’s left philosophy

An taen to drams.

He found that learnin, fame,

Gas, telegraphs an steam,

Logic, loyalty, gude name,

Were aw mere shams;

That the source o joy below

An the antidote to woe,

An the only proper go

Was drinkin drams.

It’s true that we can see

Auld Nick, wi gloatin ee,

Just waitin till he dee

Mid frichts an dwams;

But what’s Auld Nick to him,

Or palsied tongue or limb,

Wi glass filled to the brim

When drinkin drams.

Painting   – ‘Whisky Drinker’ Tim Cockburn  www.timcockburn.co.uk