Erit radix Jesse…
A razorback misnomer; still, it passes
The test that cuts across the industry
And shaves Kentucky’s competition – thick as
These wiry tufts and bristled hairs must be
To stand on corny ground, this juice of Rock Town.
The tale gets knocked around as locals knock down
A bottle – snout to screwy tail – just how
The natural state of bourbon, Arkansas
Had seen, presents this runty piglet portion
For Advent’s fifteenth day. “So bite the bit
And take a sip,” this whisky says. It’s right
That expectation should exceed aversion –
So winter’s branch on Jesse’s barren tree,
Will stump to prove its root’s nativity.
Fun fact: The Latin name for the Diocese of Little Rock is Diocesis Petriculanum.
‘Rock Town Arkansas Bourbon’, you say, JOB? You’ve piqued my curiosity for sure; I’ll try to finagle a dram during my Yuletide Petriculanean sojourn at Château Nguyễn.
But I have to say, this is the divine nectar for which your porcine allusions have really set me salivating.
WOO!
PIG SOOIE!!
RA-ZOR-BACKS!!!
It does, as I indicate, strongly rely on the corn – smells of tassels and tastes of the mash.
Good stuff, though; certainly a new flavor I’d not encountered before among the whisky brethren.
Someday, Sims or bust!
Best,
JOB
nice pig