#poteen
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
#music#weird#new music#alchemisland#tonalchemy#noise not music#found sound#alchemy#neuralchemy#samples#irish traditional music#cratur#stick to the cratur#poteen#poitin#drinking#dionysus#alcohol#revery#hideous sound#weird sounds#ambient#music kinda#bandcamp#knights#johnny jump up#farewell equines#death crush#black metal#zos kia cultus
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ever-Clear...
I come from the land of whiskey and poitín (poteen, potcheen,) that innocent-as-water stuff in the second-hand 7-Up bottle at the back of somebody's cupboard.
Even then I've never been too sure about an alcoholic drink that sounds like it should be a window-cleaner - and would probably be a very good one, at that...
This is cinema actually
197K notes
·
View notes
Text
Woofer and Whimper headcannon
Picture the canine detective duo per Clue Club originally stumbling upon an illicit moonshine still in the backwoods, with Whimper being especially overcome by the fumes of illicit whisky distillation ... and perfectly clear besides, on a par with the Irish poteen and Manx whisky.
#hanna barbera#headcannons#fanfic prompt#clue club#woofer and whimper#moonshine#illicit distillery#poteen#manx whisky#hannabarberaforever
0 notes
Text
Poteen
Police were given a "britches allowance" to cover any damage done to their trousers while chasing moonshiners in remote country areas.
10 things you didn't know about Poteen:
0 notes
Text
Paul Óg tries to get Kathleen to join his MLM but it fails because she's too busy thinking about how gay his voice is, C. 18--
#they're in her father's pub btw which is something else that i put way too much thought into#perhaps too many very visible poteen bottles to be realistic according to some of my sources but we live on the edge here in rathsimmon#c: paul óg#c: kathleen mallon#digital art#jory.img#peasantsverse
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
Myself, I prefer poteen, distilled in bathtubs.
SAS Rogue Heroes - Season 1 Episode 4
50 notes
·
View notes
Text
DANCING WITH A LEPRECHAUN.
When you are dancing with a Leprechaun,
The Leprechaun calls the tune,
He will use you as a pawn,
Beneath a blood-red moon.
He will promise you your wildest dreams,
And tell you your the only one,
But beware, all's not as it seems,
And of you he's making fun.
He is charming and beguiling,
He's as slick as oily eels,
He'll bewitch you when he's smiling,
As he dances jigs and reels.
He will fill you up with poteen,
Till you don't know your religion,
He will dress you all in green,
And have you cooing like a pigeon.
And as the moon begins to wane,
The sun rising in the east,
He'll befuddle your poor brain,
For he's a cruel and nasty beast.
You will wake up far from home,
With a sore and aching head,
You'll be cold and all alone,
And far from your nice warm bed.
So never dance with a Leprechaun,
He will trick you and beguil,
He will laugh and call you amadawn,
And at your troubles he will smile.
@Ambrose Harte
@Scattered Thoughts
#ambrose harte#writerscreed#poetry on tumblr#poets on tumblr#poetselixir#smittenbypoetry#poetryportal#poetrysavedfromobscurity#scattered thoughts#so many tears#poetry-reruns
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
poteen!!!!
it explojed…
27 notes
·
View notes
Note
Come guess me this riddle, what beats pipes and fiddle! What's hotter than mustard and milder than cream?
What best wets your whistle, what's clearer than crystal, what's sweeter than honey and stronger than steam?
What'll make the lame walk, what will make the dumb talk, the elixir of life and philospher's stone?
And what helped Mr. Brunnell to build the Thames Tunnel, Wasn't it poteen from ould Inisowen?
…
(The start of choppy writing seems to turn to cursive…)
Ah. It would seem Hyde didn’t even want to attempt this… I’ll do my best to answer in his stead then.
Hmmm… I’d have to say… is the answer whiskey? I believe this to all be one riddle with one answer, so my best guess would be whiskey.
…the way this is written, it almost sounds like… song lyrics? Is this a song you want Hyde to listen to?
-Dr. Henry Jekyll
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Are they drinking poteen from teacups... father john mcgrath from hit victorian historical novel the macdermots of ballycloran by famed victorian novelist and civil servant anthony trollope moment
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
The prosperity of 'Tobar' decreased from the time the priest's curse fell on it. Its final destruction came about on June 22nd 1861. There came a terrific storm of thunder and lightening, the worst ever witnessed in Ireland since or before. It appears as if this storm was purposely sent from God for the destruction of 'Tobar'. The terrific rain which followed, caused terrible floods. These floods came only on the small area around 'Tobar'. The flood went straight into the houses and rose up to the roof of each. It could easily have got out but would not. The people pulled out the windows, and after a long time the water went away. Among others, the house of the Hamilton Clan was destroyed, and its owner, their leader, jealous to see McLoughlin's house was not being destroyed as quickly as his was ,- seized a crowbar and made a breach in the wall. The water rushed in as soon as it had found an opening; and destroyed before it. When the water cleared away, the people returned to their homes, only to find them completely wrecked. Only five or six houses were spared, and the occupants of the less fortunate were forced to seek a living elsewhere. For weeks afterwards, bales of linen and barrels of Poteen might be seen floating down the Shannon. During all this horror, the water of the well did not remain undisturbed. It ascended into the foot of a mighty ash-tree about four feet above its former level. After a time the tree fell down, and formed a semi-circle round the well. For a long time the water remained there and at last went back to its original place. This tree was cut down lately, but the wood or timber, looked upon as sacred was not used for any purpose. The hollow in the bush near the ground may be seen to-day and is known as the place where the well was in former times. It is not deep, and is circular in shape.
- The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0206, Page 008-10.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Not to mention poteen or vodka
I honestly think the original ah lads not again post is the funniest
132K notes
·
View notes
Text
In the wake of a major outbreak of poisoning by "country liquor" in India
SECRET SQUIRREL, explaining things precisely to Morocco Mole, his sidekick and confidant: If I may be clear about it, Morocco, "country liquor" is a local term, and a very ironic such at that! MOROCCO MOLE: How ironic, Secret Squirrel, is "country liquor"? SECRET SQUIRREL: Morocco, such may call to mind American hillbilly moonshine or Irish poteen; in these parts, however, "country liquor" will sometimes use labels similar to recognised international brands of high-end exotic booze, but with deliberate manipulation to avoid the possibility of a copyright-infringement claim, as if the use of methyl alcohol and other weird and unwholesome ingredients wasn't bad enow! MOROCCO MOLE: So what exactly is the problem with this methyl alcohol? SECRET SQUIRREL: For one, Morocco, methyl alcohol, alias "meth" or "denatured alcohol," is derived from the wastes of papermaking; and for another, it's dyed blue to serve as a warning against human consumption! MOROCCO MOLE: And yet you wonder how exactly humans still fall for such "exotic booze", unaware that such is bound to blind or kill them in the end....
#hanna barbera#vignette#in the wake of the news#secret squirrel and morocco mole#investigation#espionage#exotic booze#country liquor#alcohol poisoning#methyl alcohol#meths#methylated spirits#wood alcohol#poisoned liquor#hannabarberaforever
0 notes
Text
Had to do the blorbo crime bingo tag game as done by @spideronthesun for the perpetual object of mind rotation, eoin o'donnell from tng. rules were to mark off every felony your blorbo has committed (but not necessarily been convicted of). there were a few ambiguous cases (does poteen making count as illegal drug trade) (can you drunk drive a horse) but apart from that 2 bingos... frankly I need him
If you see this consider yourself tagged. I need to see all the blorbo crimes pls ☝️
12 notes
·
View notes
Photo
My dad grew up on Sourland Mountain near Neshanic Station during the 1940s. His family's home was barely more than a shack situated on an upcountry dirt road; they had an iron well-pump in the kitchen instead of a faucet, and their neighbors raised yard pigs and brewed their own poteen. My grandmother - the daughter of immigrant Russian Jews - developed a folksy hillbilly lilt from living up there, and she passed it on to her children. When she needed provisions like canned beef stew, oleomargarine and peanut butter, she'd tell my father and his brother to fetch their blanket rolls and descend the ridge on foot. They'd camp overnight, hit the grocer's in the morning, and deliver the goods by suppertime-- factoring in a quick dip in the Raritan under the old red Central Railroad bridge as a reward.
I saw all of these sites - the mill, the bridge, the river, the half-collapsed shack - years ago before luxury condos crept in and overtook Hillsborough Township. So while I love the look of this mill renovation, I am both transfixed and horrified at the wealth it takes to stake a claim in what was once a humble, no-frills community where having two dimes to rub together made you a rich man.
$642,718/4 br/7200 sq ft
Hillsborough, NJ
built in 1876
“This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to own the famous Neshanic Mill in Hillsborough NJ featured on the Welcome to Hillsborough sign. Built in 1876 on the banks of the South Branch of the Raritan River farmers would bring their grain to the mill to be ground into flour. This continued until the late 1940s. This home was turned into a residence in the 70s and then the current owners restored the old charm of the mill while transforming it into a modern residence in the mid-90s.”
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
A poem by Donagh MacDonagh
Dublin Made Me
Dublin made me and no little town With the country closing in on its streets The cattle walking proudly on its pavements The jobbers, the gombeenmen and the cheats
Devouring the fair-day between them A public-house to half a hundred men And the teacher, the solicitor and the bank-clerk In the hotel bar drinking for ten.
Dublin made me, not the secret poteen still The raw and hungry hills of the West The lean road flung over profitless bog Where only a snipe could nest
Where the sea takes its tithe of every boat. Bawneen and currach have no allegiance of mine, Nor the cute self-deceiving talkers of the South Who look to the East for a sign.
Donagh MacDonagh (1912–1968)
Portrait of Donagh MacDonagh: Seán O'Sullivan
More poems are available on the Donagh MacDonagh website.
0 notes