Through bleak cactus-desert the shaman's path led; Us stay-at-home mystics drink MESCAL instead.
	The galleys of old sailed to whiplash and drum; In civilised Navies, we substitute RUM.
Bold Hadrian's legions kept imperfect watch; They could hold back the Picts; they could not hold their SCOTCH.
	The artists of Russia are gloomy and weird, And suck down neat VODKA through unruly Beards.
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