Daryl Hatton's
Growing Pains

Here is the Robbie Burns Dinner toast to the Lassies I penned for the West Coast Whisky Society… Old Rabbie Burns, a man ‘mongst men,Sure had his way with women,His wife, his maid, four girls (it’s true!),This many bore him children! And there was talk of many more,High and lo abou’ the country.‘Twas no matter, high or common,They’d fall, like night, for poetry. His suff’ring wife, the bonnie Jean,When asked how she survives,Responded slyly, patiently,“He should ha’ had twa wives.” What was special ‘bout this wee man,That made the women swoon?Perhaps he simply loved them more,From this, they weren’t immune. …

Here is the poem I penned to explain our (my) fondness for whisky… ‘Tis dark and cold when late at night,My feet begin to wander,And visit, shhhh!, my Secret Stash,Its treasures mine to plunder. A dram I crave, fine liquid gold,With flavours strong and subtle,Vanilla, fruit, nuts, smoke and peat,Pure magic in a bottle. The drink that warms me heart and soul,‘Tis aged rare Scotch Whisky,A vice so fine I can’t complain,Tho’ financially quite risky. Dilemma shows itself tonight,What selection shall I make?With so many fine expressions,From which will I partake? Tho’ whisky flows ‘cross all Scotland,Small Islay makes my …