The Angel's Share
If you go for a tour around a whisky distillery, you are bound to be taken to the warehouse when they are likely to tell you about "The Angel's Share" which is a key feature of the maturation process and is key to it's taste. However, it's not the only factor; the roasting of the malt, the fermentation and distillation are also critical to the flavour and quality of the final malt whisky.
This song is about the role that each of the distillery workers play in making the final product and each one believes that their own contribution is the critical one, and they are all searching for perfection. In truth, the final product is the combination of their individual efforts along with some essential help from the angels.
I've worked in the maltings since I was a lad
Turning the grain every day
I'm aiding the barley as it germinates
Monkey shoulder is the price I must pay
Drying the grain always gives me great pride
For I know that the peat must be right
It defines the malt by imparting a taste
That our taster calls heavy or light
Chorus
I've been searching for perfection
I've been searching everywhere
When I die I am hoping for heaven
Where I'll taste the angel's share
My pals call me masher for I mash the grist
After the milling's been done
I then drain the wort it’s a sugary brew
Through the sieve in the floor of the tun
It's then that the magic really begins
As I add yeast to make it ferment
Too long and it spoils - it must be just right
For the flavour, the feel, and the scent
chorus
I am the distiller, distilling the wash
As my father distilled it before me
My senses are keen to the vapours which swirl
And condense to the dew of the barley
I know I must get the conditions just right
You can see all the trouble I'm taking
The cut that I make must be clean and precise
To match up with the malt that I'm making
chorus
I manage the warehouse but I can't manage time
For it moves at its own steady pace
I turn each cask with thought and great care
Each one in its own special place
But year after year the whisky rows less
For the angels must have their share
It seeps through the wood and evaporates off
And the angels collect it with care
chorus