To a Boon Companion

O sovereign and most noble drink,
O golden draught of liquid fire,
You loosen tongues, cause minds to think,
You stimulate hearts to desire.

Your mellow and enchanting waft,
Long-hid behind a barrel’s bung,
Portends a sharpened, burning quaff
Which melts to sweetness on the tongue.

All earthly fame lacks permanence,
And beauty soon from men does pass,
So I’ll forswear all temperance
And pour myself another glass.

For all life’s journeys, safe or risky,
There’s no more constant friend than whisky.

                                          PHILLIP POTTS