whiskey

Last night as I slept, I dreamt I met with Behan
I shook him by the hand and we passed the time of day
When questioned on his views, on the crux of life's philosophies
He had for me these clear and simple words to say:

I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing

I have cursed, bled and sworn, jumped bail and landed up in jail
Life has often tried to stretch me but the rope always went slack
And now that I've a pile, I'll go down to the Chelsea
I'll walk in on my feet, but I'll leave there on my back.

Oh the words that he spoke seemed the wisest of philosophies--
There was nothing ever gained by a wet thing called a tear.
When the world is too dark and I need the light inside of me,
I'll walk into a bar...and drink fifteen pints of beer.

Because I'm going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing,
Where streams of whiskey are flowing.
("Streams of Whiskey," the Pogues.)

from the Irish, uisce beatha, meaning water of life, or aquavit. A related word is the more archaic usquebaugh. The Scots Gaelic term, uisge beatha, is very similar to the Irish.