Gleeful Gluttony

England possesses a great number of Drinking Songs, but as far as I am aware, no Eating Songs. For the usual prize of £5, competitors were invited to remedy this deficiency, in not more than sixteen lines of verse, which might include a chorus.

I must begin by retracting my statement that England possesses no Eating Songs. I had forgotten that noble ditty 'Bacon and Eggs,' by A.P.H., who has also sung the. praise of Sausage and Mash; moreover, as a competitor reminded me, there is Thackeray's 'Ballad of Bouillabaisse,' and there are probably others. W. Bernard Wake, who contributed a line song with the refrain, A trencherman am 1,' points out pertinently that 'you can't sing with your mouth full,' which doubtless explains the rarity of the type. However, the competition elicited a number of' poems of high quality; the subject is evidently one on which people feel deeply, especially after years of rationing! Most competitors showed a wide catholi- city of taste, though certain dishes came in for special commendation. I found it hard to judge between about a score of prize-worthy songs; in the end, vigour, singability and ingenuity all carried weight. I recommend that £2 each be awarded to Leslie Johnson and P. M., with Ll to A. W. Dicker for his travesty of Tennyson. Commendation to those already named, and to Pibwob, Miss Eileen Tulloch, Stephen D. Band, Joyce Johnson, Dr. J. W. McFeeters, A. Ayckbourn, C. J. Richards, Iris St. Hill Mousley, H. V. S. Page, Hugh Lyon and J. P. Mullarky.

PRIZES (LESLIE JOHNSON)

Solo: Here's to the answer to every mood, Sometimes it's bolted and sometimes it's chewed ; • s What is the tonic to which I allude ? Chorus: It's food, food, glorious food! S. Eternally welcome and never pooh-poohed, What is the stuff with which husbands are wooed

When they seem sulky and likely to brood?

C. Why food, food, glorious food! S. Be he a dustman or be he a dude,

Where is the man who was never imbued With appetite hearty and possibly rude

C. For food, food, glorious food?

S. Baked in an oven, or frozen or stewed, Luscious with dressing or served in the nude, Above any liquor that ever was brewed C. Is food, food, glorious food!

(P. st.) Eating Song Ito the tune of 'Bonnie Dundee')

l'm no slave to convention, it's eating that counts

When the food is well cooked in sufficient amounts.

So to ev'ryone here who loves eating like me, I'll say up to the table and 'Bon appetit!'

(Chorus) Come pull up your chair and fill up your plate Come tuck in your napkin, you don't have to wait, Unh•iok your belt buckle and let us fall to Foa there's nothing so good as a good Irish stew

(or: rabbit ragout, a beef steak or two, curry babu, veau en tortue, prunes and sago, ad lib. after each verse).

Then away with your small stuff, smoked salmon, pig's feet, We can slip down some oysters and think what to eat ; Tho' they bring them in dozens three thousand times three, We'll swallow them all and cry 'Bon appetit 1'

(Chorus, ending perhaps: There's nothing so good as an oyster or two.)

(Last verse) At last we have finished—fish, entr6e, joint, sweet, The chairs arc pushed backward, the guests are replete,

But the good host cries 'Hold! There's a savoury, please—

You will never say no to my hominy cheese!

(Chorus, ending:

There's no one but falls for a savoury, too.) (a. W. DICKER) Come into the larder, Maud, For the cook and the maids have flown, Come into the larder, Maud, I am here at the Frig. alone. And the fragrant spices are wafted abroad, And the pickled onions amillone, And the cream that is waithig to be poured Is the richest I've ever known.

And the breeze from the window moves The hams that are hanging on high, There is butter like sunshine, my love, And a wonderful blackberry pie. Though others our relish for eating reprove, Their miserable moans we defy, For feasting is only for mortals, my love,

You can't eat the pie in the sky.