The hidden still

Amang the birch by sil’er stream,

by peat hag black an’ bracken green.

doon amang the dark o’ Livet,

lies ilka drover’s canny secret.

‘neath a pot o’ beaten copper,

a peatfire burns the dourest glimmer.

Nae reek nor flame, it burns tae cin’er,

enough the broth within tae simmer.

‘tis there a hash o’ barley stews,

that boils tae raise the purest dews.

The mist is held and cooled tae reap,

the spirit o’ the barley’s dreep.

Fae jar the spirit’s ta’en anew,

wi’ care tae store o’ lumber.

Tae flame-fired cask sae oak embues,

the flavour o’ the timber.

O’er time and tide the spirit aged,

smoke and spice and peaten shade,

tae tame the spirit’s fiery rage,

wi flavour unco’ rare.

As ye sip that richest dram,

spare a thought tae toast,

the douniwassal o’ the ’Livet,

a hidden still did boast.

Jock

The hidden still

barbreck

Dundee, United Kingdom

  • Artist
    Notes

Artist's Description

A dedication to the pioneers of Scotch whisky

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