The weary are known to touch a dram, but do not fear it make you dull. Sweet the honey upon the tongue, smell the heather and the malt. Swim in gold the likes are dreams, and smile to know you share this glass. The Bonnie Prince himself did laugh to taste the golds of home, though in his heart a song was sung, heavy hung his soul to know that ne’r back to roam those hills. Yet still the lasses smiled at him and he to them and then to lads. Contentment pleaded with his head, till at last his did depart to pastures where his faith could soar even if his head was bare. Sweet Drambuie sings old songs to rest the minds of labors long.