Meet the single malt that hails from Scotland's most north-easterly distillery.
Its tang of coastal air and apple notes draw the fishermen homeward, to a warming dram and a blether.
Come away from the fire for a-while, Come doon to the harbour wall, Look out to the cold, dreich sea a-while, As the waves do rise and fall.
We'll sip a nip of The Deveron yet, tho that old north wind do blow.
D'ye spy the boats that are bobbing? Macduff men after their trawl. On board calloused hands are a-throbbing As they land that bountiful haul.
We'll sip a nip of The Deveron yet, tho that old north wind do blow.
The sea's icy water it bites, Sea salt does scratch their skin, Eyes turn to glimmering harbour lights, And the dram that they'll get within.
We'll sip a nip of The Deveron yet, tho that old north wind do blow.
Back on that harbour wall now, Turn turn and you will see The rolling river that runs through the town And rushes to greet the sea.
We'll sip a nip of The Deveron yet, tho that old north wind do blow.
On its bank the distillery you find. A shelter from the storms, Making the malt that we all keep in mind: A reward that welcomes and warms.
We'll sip a nip of The Deveron yet, tho that old north wind do blow.
When willows break and haar ghosts in, then haste ye home or some bit warm, Unwind with toasted grain and apples, seaborne spice; calm from the storm.
Made where the big river meets the endless brine, in any weather, drookit or clear, Delve in fruity depths where nutty notes are stowed; a dram for blether and fireside cheer.
