Use, then, my lust for whisky and for thee,
Your function but to be and let me be
And see and let me see.

If in a lesser licht I grope my way,
Or use’t for ends that need your different ray
Whelm’t in superior day.

Then aye increase and ne’er withdraw your licht.
—Gin it shows either o’s in hideous plicht,
What gain to turn’t to nicht?

Whisky mak’s Heaven or Hell and whiles mells baith,
Disease is but the privy torch o’ Daith,
—But sex reveals life, faith!

I need them a’ and maun be aye at strife.
Daith and ayont are nocht but pairts o’ life.
—Then be life’s licht, my wife!…

Love often wuns free
In lust to be strangled,
Or love, o’ lust free,
In law’s sairly tangled.

And it’s ill to tell whether
Law or lust is to blame
When love’s chokit up
—It comes a’ to the same.

In this sorry growth
Whatna beauty is tint
That freed o’t micht find
A waur fate than is in’t?…

 

from A Drunk Man Looks at Throbbing Thistle