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Alcohol: Toxic in any amount, or beneficial in moderation, or does it depend on the person?
Replies
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Scotch Drink
Let other poets raise a fracas
Bout vines, and wines, an drucken Bacchus,
An crabbit names an stories wrack us,
An grate our lug:
I sing the juice Scotch bear can mak us,
In glass or Jug.
O thou, my Muse! guid auld Scotch drink!
Whether thro' wimplin worms thou jink,
Or, richly brown, ream owre the brink,
In glorious faem
Inspire me, till I lisp an wink,
To sing thy name!
Let husky wheat the haughs adorn,
An aits set up their awnie horn,
An Pease and beans, at e'en or morn,
Perfume the plain:
Leeze me on thee, John Barleycorn,
Thou king o' grain!
On thee aft Scotland chows her cood,
In souple scones, the wale o' food!
Or tumbling in the boiling flood
Wi' kail an beef;
But when thou pours thy strong heart's blood
There thou shines chief.
Food fills the wame, an keeps us livin;
Tho life's a gift no worth receivin
When heavy-dragg'd wi pine an grievin;
But oil'd by thee
The wheels o' life gae down-hill, scrievin,
Wi' rattlin glee.
Thou clears the head o' doited Lear,
Thou cheers the heart o' drooping Care;
Thou strings the nerves o' Labour sair,
At 's weary toil;
Thou ev'n brightens dark Despair
Wi' gloomy smile.
Aft, clad in massy siller weed,
Wi gentles thou erscts thy head;
Yet humbly kind in time o' need,
The poor man's wine:
His wee drap parritch, or his bread,
Thou kitchens fine.
Thou art the life o' public haunts;
But thee, what were our fairs and rants?
Ev'n godly meetings o' the saunts,
By thee inspir'd,
When, gaping, they besiege the tents,
Are doubly fir'd.
That merry night we get the corn in,
O sweetly, then, thou reams the horn
Or reekin on a New-Year mornin
In cog or bicker,
An just a wee drap sp'ritual burn in,
An gusty sucker!
When Vulcan gies his bellows breath,
An ploughmen gather wi their graith,
O rare! to see thee fizz an freath
I' th' lugget caup!
Then Burnewin comes on like death
At every chaup.
Nae mercy, then, for airn or steel:
The brawnie, bainie, ploughman chiel,
Brings hard owrehip, wi sturdy wheel,
The strong forehammer,
Till block an studdie ring an reel,
Wi dinsome clamour.
When skirlin' weanies see the light,
Thou maks the gossips clatter bright,
How fumblin coofs their dearies slight;
Wae worth the name!
Nae howdie gets a social night,
Or plack frae them.
When neebors anger at a plea,
An just as wud as wud can be,
How easy can the barley-brie
Cement the quarrel!
It's aye the cheapest lawyer's fee,
To taste the barrel.
Alake! that e'er my Muse has reason,
To wyte her countrymen wi' treason!
But monie daily weet their weason
Wi' liquors nice,
An hardly, in a winter season,
E'er spier her price.
Wae worth that brandy, burnin trash!
Fell source o' monie a pain an brash!
Twins monie a poor, doylt, drucken hash
O' half his days;
An sends, beside, auld Scotland's cash
To her warst faes.
Ye Scots, wha wish auld Scotland well!
Ye chief, to you my tale I tell,
Poor, plackless devils like mysel!
It sets you ill
Wi' bitter, dearthfu' wines to mell,
Or foreign gill.
May gravels round his blather wrench,
An gouts torment him, inch by inch,
Wha twists his gruntle wi' a glunch
O' sour disdain
Out owre a glass o' whisky-punch
Wi honest men!
O Whisky! soul o' plays an pranks!
Accept a Bardie's gratefu thanks!
When wanting thee, what tuneless cranks
Are my poor verses!
Thou comes---they rattle i' their ranks,
At ither's arses!
Thee, Ferintosh! O sadly lost!
Scotland lament frae coast to coast!
Now colic grips, an barkin hoast
May kill us a';
For loyal Eorbes' charter'd boast
Is taen awa!
They curst horse-leeches o' th' Excise,
Wha mak the whisky stells their prize!
Haud up thy han', Deil! ance, twice, thrice!
There, seize the blinkers!
An bake them up in brunstane pies
For poor damn'd drinkers.
Fortune! if thou'll but gie me still
Hale breeks, a scone, an whisky gill,
An rowth o' rhyme to rave at will,
Tak a' the rest,
An deal't about as thy blind skill
Directs thee best.
-Robert Burns6 -
Is here where I point out that Robert Burns died at thirty-seven from a heart condition that was most likely aggravated by alcohol?
I've found as I get older than alcohol and I are not the buds we once were, so I've radically cut down on my drinking.6 -
Great people write great songs and poetry about alcohol. No respectable human being toasts a great achievement to a Diet Coke.
I suspect Mr. Burns' death may have had more to do with just alcohol.
Genetics establishes parameters. Humans have the innate and unique capacity to exceed these parameters. Physiologically speaking you're not going to find much evidence to support alcohol. Socially and psychologically however....
I suspect there's some hidden link within gnotobiotic studies, but the degree of bias would exponentially high.5 -
Im Himmel gibt’s kein Bier,
Drum trinken wir es hier.
Denn sind wir nicht mehr hier,
Dann trinken die andern unser Bier.3 -
Good for you, @Agefyter18 One thing that is surprising to a lot of people is that for a woman, all it takes is 8 glasses per week (small ones-- 5 ounces--which are pretty rare in the real world) and voila-- you fall into the "heavy drinker" category. Shocking, I know! (At least I was shocked.)1
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My best friend is killing himself with alcohol. "Thanks" to that, I haven't had a drink in over a year.7
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