I mentioned Bushmill’s in some former verses.
My brother tells me Jameson’s the stuff.
With solemn imprecations and with curses,
he says that Bushmill’s isn’t good enough.
His reason? Prods make Bushmill’s. That I knew
already — but I needed Bushmill’s then:
I had to have a trochee. Ah, we do
what we must — and then mumble an amen!
With Ulstermen, for art, I’ll be at peace.
To make a rhyme, I’ll say most anything–
and whiskey does help prejudice decrease.
Here’s to your queen, lads, and your last dead king!
I’ll finish up my Bushmill’s now. Cough! Cough!
I must get out before the bomb goes off….