pRUMMON DS

COMPETITION

. Pt RE %I I

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Nunc est bibendum

Jaspistos

IN COMPETITION NO. 1809 you were invited to compose a drinking song in praise of, and to accompany the consump- tion of, a particular drink.

The Greeks started it. Anacreon was praising the wine of Samos in 500BC. A thousand years later Julianus of Egypt was carrying on the tradition (my translation from the Greek Anthology):

I sang it often, and I'll go on Shouting it from the grave: 'Keep warm, Drink wine before you have to don The dead man's dusty uniform.'

Is the tradition dead? I can call to mind a Victorian book of teetotal drinking songs — one chorus went, 'Huzza for brave water!' — but I can't think of a good modern example of the genre. Some of you celebrated some pretty eerie brews — rum and Ribena, for inst- ance, and Pernod and Babycham. The prizewinners, printed below (£20 each), were more conventional in their tastes, except for Alyson Nikiteas, the winner of the bonus bottle of Drummond's Pure Malt Scotch whisky, who recommends an un- usual anti-freeze mixture.

Some prate of Angostura, Some of Marsala sweet, Others in mere bravura Will gargle vodka neat, But of all the cocktails fancy, Ports, clarets and the rest, It needs no oenomancy For me to find the best.

Straight malt may make us merry, Old rum may make us bold, But Bovril, laced with sherry, Keeps out the shrewdest cold!

0, exile sad at sundown!

0, helmsman in the storm!

0, oldies, sick and run-down - This brew will keep you warm!

(Alyson Nikiteas) Lift high the brimming beaker! Raise up the milky mug! What drink could be more cosy? What drink could be more snug?

In dressing-gown and slippers, Before a roaring fire, We toast those family values To which we all aspire.

So here's to thrift and prudence And all things straight and square, And here's to well-kept gardens, And here's to tidy hair.

0 cup so warm and soothing, You make this comfy room A haven from life's horrors, A chocolate-coated womb. (Keith Norman) Here's to the apples the Normans produce! Here's to the pressoirs that squelch out the juice! Here's to the enzymes that put it to use! Calvados, Calvados, nectar des pommes! Calvados, Calvados, nectar pour hommes!

Here's to the stills where they make it so merry! Here's to the casks where it sleeps without hurry!

Here's to the duty-free hooch on the ferry! Calvados, Calvados, nectar des pommes! Calvados, Calvados, nectar pour hommes!

Here's to Duke William that brought it ashore! Here's to the last one! Here's to one more! Here's to that long, languid slide to the floor!

Calvados, Calvados, nectar des pommes!

Calvados, Calvados, nectar pour hommes!

(Noel Petty) It's the cocktail for relaxing any place and any time, In a low-lit bar or on a sunny deck, With its mellow warmth of brandy and its piercing tang of lime And the luscious undertone of triple sec.

You can lengthen it with seltzer, you can freshen it with ice, You can gulp it or consume it sip by sip.

Do you like your cocktails garnished? You can float a citrus slice On the froth that foams around the glass's lip.

Take a swizzle stick and stir it. As the gleaming liquid swirls It becomes an evanescent work of art, With the slowly melting chunks of ice, as delicate as pearls, Clustered lustrously and lightly at its heart.

After three or more the mundane world's a Technicolor dream And there's no such thing as tedium or sorrow, For there's magic in a Sidecar. It's the elixir supreme That obliterates the menace of tomorrow. (Basil Ransome-Davies) There are merits in cider and stout And in slivovitz made from the plum, While vodka's a blessing no doubt To Russians inclined to be glum. Liqueurs may be fine after dinner, Drambuie or Dutch van der Hum, But rum is the drink of a winner, Bring me a bottle of rum.

The wines emanating from France All seem to be called after chateaux, While in parts of Peru they may dance When inspired by the hooch of the plateau. The miracle-makers of Nippon With saki quite super become, But rum is what I take a trip on, Bring me a bottle of rum. (Richard Blomfield)