Moonshine Poem by ivor or ivor.e hogg

Amidst the hills clandestine stills
are still producing liquid gold.
Utilising ancient skills
passed down from forebears; known of old.

Forded from their homelands unjustly
deprived of all they had by laws
Enforced by English kings decree
The clansmen had no other course.

But emigrate and seek freedom
in distant lands across the sea
Where they hoped to find a welcome.
It seems they did and readily


Resumed the way of life they knew
cherished traditions from the past
They proved they were willing to
adapt to change as the years passed

Becoming model citizens.
Accepting their new ome lands laws.
Retaining some independence
as any Scotsman would of course.

Inherited ability
ensured they’re were able to.
Distil their own kind of whisky.
Something that they will always do.

Though law abiding generally.
They’re adamant the will not pay
the government any duty
on what they make it’s not their way

Rebellion is in their blood
inherited genetically.
They would not change it if they could
They won’t surrender easily

And that is why we hide our stills
in places that are known only to us.
An ongoing battle of wills
between the government and us.

11-Jan-09

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