A poem with a twist in logic (hey, the poet is not me but Stewart Macfarlane, ofcourse you must have logically deduced that from its beauty and slang)

Tae think of when ye pour.O whisky is the king of drinks,
Renowned the world o’er,
But here’s a word o’ caution,
There’s a certain combination,
That tastes so very good,
But when it hits your tummy,
And mixes with your food.
That’s when the trouble starts,
For yer pleasure hits overload,
And half an hour later,
Ye’ll suddenly explode.
So there ye are in the pub,
Completely engulfed in flames,
And yer good wife’s dashing home,
Tae lodge insurance claims.
Well now that I have told ye,
Don’t say ye’ve no’ been warned,
So don’t try it oot yersel’,
Or ye’ll soon be bein’ mourned