Tastes

Now, fair dram of whiskey, mine hopes doth soar, High West, I beseech thou, please do not bore. Amber maiden, I entreat thee to woo, My soul yearns for merriment and glee from you. The worst may befall me in this case, For austerity prevails above taste. Vexation grew in mine hollow dark heart, This lofty dram just didn't play the part. Though still gracious, I dare not protest, I relentlessly admire the folks at High West.