Talisker

Drinking the tears of a Scottish Maiden I can taste the clay of the Isle of Skye Philosopher's liquid, fix my broken Loosen my tongue, speak two truths and a lie What history do you hold in your old Aged spirit? Warm my heart, by the hearth As the night goes, my troubles you've consoled. Remind me my worth, and to hope give birth. You're the blood and tears of hardworking Scots Salt and pepper, the bitterness of life The scent of spring linens on a clothesline Smooth as you are, I'll take too many shots And you'll be there, in sickness and in strife Till this body is six feet and supine Gift from the Gods, ten year old Talisker Saline heartbreak in bottles of amber