Oh, for a few scoops of poitín that hath been barn-hidden a long time from the gardaí’s keen search, tasting of barley corn and Ballyhoura hills green, of céilí and ballads and mountainy craic! Oh, for a crúiscín full of the spirit of the South; full of mountain dew, the purest, brightest seen, with sparkling droplets beckoning on the rim to slake the dreadful drought!