The Humours of Whiskey 歌词
| 歌曲 | The Humours of Whiskey |
| 歌手 | Andy M. Stewart |
| 专辑 | Dublin Lady |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Traditional | |
| Let your quacks and newspapers be cutting their capers | |
| About curing the vapors the scratch and the gout | |
| With their medical potions, their serums and their lotions | |
| Upholding their notions, they're mighty put out. | |
| Who can tell the true physic to all that's pathetic | |
| And pitch to the divil, cramp, colic and spleen | |
| You'll know it | |
| I think if you take a big drink | |
| With your mouth to the brink of a jug of poteen | |
| So stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature | |
| For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys | |
| Oh what botheration, no dose in the nation | |
| Can give consolation like poteen me boys. | |
| No liquid cosmetic to lovers athletic | |
| Or bodies pathetic can give such a bloom | |
| As the sweet by the powers in the garden of flowers | |
| Ever gave their own bowers such a darling perfume | |
| And this liquid so rare if you willingly share | |
| To be taking your hair when it's frizzled and dead | |
| Oh the sod has the merit to yield the true spirit | |
| So strong it will shake all the hairs from your head | |
| Then stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature | |
| For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys | |
| Oh since its perfection, no doctor's direction | |
| Can cleanse the complexion like poteen me boys | |
| While a child in me cradle, me nurse with her ladle | |
| Was filling my mouth with a notion of pap | |
| When a drop from her bottle fell into my throttle | |
| I stumbled and capered clean out of her lap | |
| On the floor | |
| I lay crawlin' and screaming and bawling ' | |
| Til me mother and father were called to the fore | |
| All sobbing and sighing they feared | |
| I was dying | |
| But soon found | |
| I only was crying for more. | |
| So stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature | |
| For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys | |
| Oh lord how they'd chuckle if babes in their truckle | |
| They only could suckle on poteen me boys | |
| Through my youthful aggression, through times of depression | |
| My childhood's impression still clung to my mind | |
| And at school or at college the basis of knowledge | |
| I never could gulp 'til with whiskey combined | |
| And as older | |
| I'm growing times ever bestowin' | |
| On Erin's potation, a flavor so fine | |
| And how ere they may lecture on jove and his nectar | |
| Itself is the only true liquid divine | |
| So stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature | |
| For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys | |
| Oh lord, 'tis the right thing for courting and fighting | |
| There's nowt so exciting as poteen me boys. | |
| Come guess me this riddle, what beats pipes and fiddle | |
| What's hotter than mustard and milder than cream | |
| What best wets your whistle, what's clearer than crystal | |
| What's sweeter than honey and stronger than steam | |
| What'll make the lame walk, what will make the dumb talk, | |
| The elixir of life and philospher's stone | |
| And what helped | |
| Mr. Brunnell to build the | |
| Thames Tunnel | |
| Wasn't it poteen from ould | |
| Inisowen So stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature | |
| For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys | |
| Oh lord, it's no wonder, if lightning and thunder | |
| Weren't made from the plunder of poteen me boys. | |
| You maidens pathetic, with lovers athletic | |
| For liquid cosmetic, you can't beat the drop | |
| With a glow to your cheek, it will make your heart leap | |
| It'll quiet a stallion or cure an old cob | |
| At the mouth you would drool, be reduced to a fool | |
| You'd kick up your heels and you'd peel to the buff | |
| Then 'tis he'd be pathetic while you'd be athletic | |
| If only you'd take a few drops of the stuff | |
| So stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature | |
| For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys | |
| For there's nothing like whiskey to make maidens frisky | |
| It soon separates all the men from the boys. |
| zuo ci : Traditional | |
| Let your quacks and newspapers be cutting their capers | |
| About curing the vapors the scratch and the gout | |
| With their medical potions, their serums and their lotions | |
| Upholding their notions, they' re mighty put out. | |
| Who can tell the true physic to all that' s pathetic | |
| And pitch to the divil, cramp, colic and spleen | |
| You' ll know it | |
| I think if you take a big drink | |
| With your mouth to the brink of a jug of poteen | |
| So stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature | |
| For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys | |
| Oh what botheration, no dose in the nation | |
| Can give consolation like poteen me boys. | |
| No liquid cosmetic to lovers athletic | |
| Or bodies pathetic can give such a bloom | |
| As the sweet by the powers in the garden of flowers | |
| Ever gave their own bowers such a darling perfume | |
| And this liquid so rare if you willingly share | |
| To be taking your hair when it' s frizzled and dead | |
| Oh the sod has the merit to yield the true spirit | |
| So strong it will shake all the hairs from your head | |
| Then stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature | |
| For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys | |
| Oh since its perfection, no doctor' s direction | |
| Can cleanse the complexion like poteen me boys | |
| While a child in me cradle, me nurse with her ladle | |
| Was filling my mouth with a notion of pap | |
| When a drop from her bottle fell into my throttle | |
| I stumbled and capered clean out of her lap | |
| On the floor | |
| I lay crawlin' and screaming and bawling ' | |
| Til me mother and father were called to the fore | |
| All sobbing and sighing they feared | |
| I was dying | |
| But soon found | |
| I only was crying for more. | |
| So stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature | |
| For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys | |
| Oh lord how they' d chuckle if babes in their truckle | |
| They only could suckle on poteen me boys | |
| Through my youthful aggression, through times of depression | |
| My childhood' s impression still clung to my mind | |
| And at school or at college the basis of knowledge | |
| I never could gulp ' til with whiskey combined | |
| And as older | |
| I' m growing times ever bestowin' | |
| On Erin' s potation, a flavor so fine | |
| And how ere they may lecture on jove and his nectar | |
| Itself is the only true liquid divine | |
| So stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature | |
| For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys | |
| Oh lord, ' tis the right thing for courting and fighting | |
| There' s nowt so exciting as poteen me boys. | |
| Come guess me this riddle, what beats pipes and fiddle | |
| What' s hotter than mustard and milder than cream | |
| What best wets your whistle, what' s clearer than crystal | |
| What' s sweeter than honey and stronger than steam | |
| What' ll make the lame walk, what will make the dumb talk, | |
| The elixir of life and philospher' s stone | |
| And what helped | |
| Mr. Brunnell to build the | |
| Thames Tunnel | |
| Wasn' t it poteen from ould | |
| Inisowen So stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature | |
| For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys | |
| Oh lord, it' s no wonder, if lightning and thunder | |
| Weren' t made from the plunder of poteen me boys. | |
| You maidens pathetic, with lovers athletic | |
| For liquid cosmetic, you can' t beat the drop | |
| With a glow to your cheek, it will make your heart leap | |
| It' ll quiet a stallion or cure an old cob | |
| At the mouth you would drool, be reduced to a fool | |
| You' d kick up your heels and you' d peel to the buff | |
| Then ' tis he' d be pathetic while you' d be athletic | |
| If only you' d take a few drops of the stuff | |
| So stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature | |
| For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys | |
| For there' s nothing like whiskey to make maidens frisky | |
| It soon separates all the men from the boys. |
| zuò cí : Traditional | |
| Let your quacks and newspapers be cutting their capers | |
| About curing the vapors the scratch and the gout | |
| With their medical potions, their serums and their lotions | |
| Upholding their notions, they' re mighty put out. | |
| Who can tell the true physic to all that' s pathetic | |
| And pitch to the divil, cramp, colic and spleen | |
| You' ll know it | |
| I think if you take a big drink | |
| With your mouth to the brink of a jug of poteen | |
| So stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature | |
| For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys | |
| Oh what botheration, no dose in the nation | |
| Can give consolation like poteen me boys. | |
| No liquid cosmetic to lovers athletic | |
| Or bodies pathetic can give such a bloom | |
| As the sweet by the powers in the garden of flowers | |
| Ever gave their own bowers such a darling perfume | |
| And this liquid so rare if you willingly share | |
| To be taking your hair when it' s frizzled and dead | |
| Oh the sod has the merit to yield the true spirit | |
| So strong it will shake all the hairs from your head | |
| Then stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature | |
| For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys | |
| Oh since its perfection, no doctor' s direction | |
| Can cleanse the complexion like poteen me boys | |
| While a child in me cradle, me nurse with her ladle | |
| Was filling my mouth with a notion of pap | |
| When a drop from her bottle fell into my throttle | |
| I stumbled and capered clean out of her lap | |
| On the floor | |
| I lay crawlin' and screaming and bawling ' | |
| Til me mother and father were called to the fore | |
| All sobbing and sighing they feared | |
| I was dying | |
| But soon found | |
| I only was crying for more. | |
| So stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature | |
| For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys | |
| Oh lord how they' d chuckle if babes in their truckle | |
| They only could suckle on poteen me boys | |
| Through my youthful aggression, through times of depression | |
| My childhood' s impression still clung to my mind | |
| And at school or at college the basis of knowledge | |
| I never could gulp ' til with whiskey combined | |
| And as older | |
| I' m growing times ever bestowin' | |
| On Erin' s potation, a flavor so fine | |
| And how ere they may lecture on jove and his nectar | |
| Itself is the only true liquid divine | |
| So stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature | |
| For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys | |
| Oh lord, ' tis the right thing for courting and fighting | |
| There' s nowt so exciting as poteen me boys. | |
| Come guess me this riddle, what beats pipes and fiddle | |
| What' s hotter than mustard and milder than cream | |
| What best wets your whistle, what' s clearer than crystal | |
| What' s sweeter than honey and stronger than steam | |
| What' ll make the lame walk, what will make the dumb talk, | |
| The elixir of life and philospher' s stone | |
| And what helped | |
| Mr. Brunnell to build the | |
| Thames Tunnel | |
| Wasn' t it poteen from ould | |
| Inisowen So stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature | |
| For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys | |
| Oh lord, it' s no wonder, if lightning and thunder | |
| Weren' t made from the plunder of poteen me boys. | |
| You maidens pathetic, with lovers athletic | |
| For liquid cosmetic, you can' t beat the drop | |
| With a glow to your cheek, it will make your heart leap | |
| It' ll quiet a stallion or cure an old cob | |
| At the mouth you would drool, be reduced to a fool | |
| You' d kick up your heels and you' d peel to the buff | |
| Then ' tis he' d be pathetic while you' d be athletic | |
| If only you' d take a few drops of the stuff | |
| So stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature | |
| For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys | |
| For there' s nothing like whiskey to make maidens frisky | |
| It soon separates all the men from the boys. |
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