piddledribble said:
A verses of any ode to the gods brew to be posted in this court within 24 hours, the weak defendant will recite it with hand on heart in front of his disappointed fellow brewers.....
The opener from Burns' Tam O' Shanter, describing that wonderfully cosy situation of the warm pub in the early evening when we really should be thinking about getting home...
...but don't...
*places hand on heart*
"When chapmen billies leave the street,
And drouthy neibors, neibors meet,
As market days are wearing late,
An' folk begin to tak the gate;
While we sit bousing at the nappy,
And getting fou and unco happy,
We think na on the lang Scots miles,
The mosses, waters, slaps, and styles,
That lie between us and our hame,
Where sits our sulky sullen dame.
Gathering her brows like gathering storm,
Nursing her wrath to keep it warm...."
(and for those who, like me, just can't resist the rest - it's
here )