Johnny Walker the Man And His Whisky Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

A farmer's boy, named John,
His father gone, life moved on.
A shop they made, with drinks inside,
Where bottles stood, side by side.

He liked things same, from day to day,
Just like the tea he'd blend away.
So whiskies mixed, he'd blend and pour,
The same good taste, forevermore.

He never sipped, this man of taste,
No drop he'd take, no time to waste.
His drink a marvel, clear and bright,
Though he himself, shunned its light.

His son then came, with eyes so keen,
And saw the world, a grander scene.
On ships and trains, his drink he'd send,
To lands afar, without an end.

A square-shaped bottle, strong and neat,
To brave the waves, and ocean's beat.
A label slanted, bold and grand,
To catch the eye, across the land.

Then grandsons took, with names so bold,
'Johnnie Walker, ' a story told.
Red and Black, the colours gleamed,
And a walking man, in spirit seemed.

A simple man, who mixed with care,
Left a legacy, beyond compare.
His whispered name, in every land,
The whisky's master, close at hand.