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September 24th, 2007 by chris
They curst horseleeches 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.
- Robert Burns (19th century scotch enthusiast)
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