Heather Ale
From the bonny bells of heather
They brewed a drink long-syne,
Was sweeter far than honey,
Was stronger far than wine.
They brewed and they drank it,
And lay in a blessed swound
For days and days together
In their dwellings underground
But now in vain is the torture,
Fire shall never avail
Here dies in my bosom
The secret of heather ale
excerpts from the poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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