S F
Google
Hark! A most noble house of spirits doth stand, and verily, 'tis a wondrous place.
I beseech thee, gentle traveler, tarry not—
Step within and partake in a tasting most fine.
And should fortune smile, let good Master Clayton
Craft thee a Single Barrel Old Fashion’d,
A potion of such grace it doth stir the soul.
Full many a friend have I drawn to this place,
And all in chorus sing praises of their bourbon—
A liquor bold, refined, and most excellent.
Clayton, the distiller, hath a discerning palate
And shares his art with generous heart and wit.
From mash to cask, he hath schooled me well
In the alchemy of spirit-making.
Their newborn Scotch, too, doth please the tongue,
Though not yet aged to rival elder kin.
One wish alone dost vex my merry mood—
Would that they served some fare to break the fast!
E’en humble snacks or a modest pie.
But soft! We mortals oft crave more than fate bestows.
Thus, I commend this house with heart sincere.
Drink deep, good friend, and let thy spirits rise!