Lactic Lyrics

SPECTATOR COMPETITION No. 429: Report by D. R. Peddy

Competitors were invited to compose a Milk-Drinking Song for singing by an Englist Scottish, Welsh, Irish, American or French participant in the Milk Marketing Board's forthcoming Milk-for-StaminaCycling Race.

WHAT sudden enthusiasm for cow-juice-much of it conjured up for the occasion, 1 feel. Only two honest folk, one a prizewinner, recognised that a M ilk-Drinking Song need not necessarily be in praise of the liquid; of these, the non-prizewinner,

R. Kennard Davis, in the role of a reluctant Caledonian, urged :

Tak' it slow an' canny, don't gulp it doun i' haste, An' tak' a dram o' whisky, tae tak' awa' the taste.

Understandably the bulk of the entries were as from an English cyclist, with the Scots second and French third. Wales and America are well behind, in fact J. A. Lindon's was virtually the only Welsh attempt, though that of L. Phillips is adaptable to the tune of 'Land of My Fathers.' J. S. Fidgen's 'Ole, o lait!' was set to music, and a line from his second entry, 'Where there's a wheel there's a whey !' would have quelled a less hardened setter than I. I should also mention S. H. Baynes's song, written with a current milk advertisement in mind : What a most unselfish muncha Is the cow who munches hay, So that we can drinkfa luncha Pint (or two) of milka day!

also Douglas G. W. Pringle-Wilson with his French participant's lyric on `darling-je-vous- aime-beaucoup' lines. And Alberick, whose rhym- ing scheme was clever but not polished quite to perfection.

Honourable mention to R. A. McKenzie, W. K. Holmes, J. A. Lindon, Mrs. A. Keith-Roach,

S. H. Baynes, D. G. W. Pringle-Wilson, G. N. Crockford, P. M., and Alberick. Runners-up were Alice Fleming (the best of the Scots), Gloria Prince and D. L. L. Clarke (best of the French). I suggest prizes of one and a half guineas each to Allan M. Laing, Rhoda Tuck Pook, J. E. Cherry and Barbara Roe.

PRIZES

(ALLAN M. LAING) THE IRISHMAN'S MILK SONG

Come all ye cyclists that wish for agility, Milk is the darlin' to give ye virility :

Sure, 'tis enough to abolish senility : Himself would agree wid me, Father O'Flynn.

Here's to the sweet milk that helps a man win: Slante and slante and slante agin: Suck the support av it; quaff a great quart av it; Shame to run short av it, milk from the cow Petrol's the stuff to feed thransport mechanical: Och, but the stink is entoirely satanical : Me for the juice from a cow that's botanical : Milk's the fine liquor to make the wheels spin.

Strong drink the Good Book has tould ye is mockery: That's what'll steer ye to shame and to shockery : Milk, now, will give ye the right to snook-cockery, First in the rate wid the prize-winner's grin.

(RHODA TUCK POOK) ENGLISH MILK SONG

We've milk as soon as we arrive,

And it's thanks to milk that we're still alive; There's nothing better to quench your thirst Than a hair of the dog that bit you first.

CHORUS (Repeated after each verse): Best for the start, best for a spurt, Best for a fighting pace, In a lap, a heat or a marathon Best for the human race.

Milk made Ancient Britons tough As soon as they'd sense to drink enough. It builtihe muscles under their woad, And it's still a winner as 'one for the road.'

It's milk that keeps you free from strain, Gives you pealth and beauty, brawn and brain; All this and more we owe-and how !- To the glorious, glamorous British cow.

(J. E. CHERRY) CHILLUN DRINK DAT MILK

When de Autumn leaves am When de days is cold an' dry, Den, Ole Massa, yo' is callin' Fo' yo' drink o' milk an' rye.

When de Winter breeze is sighin, Shutters bangin' to an' fro, Piccaninny wakes an's crytn' Fo' de milk dat he lubs so.

In de Summah Missus figgah Show de bones dat she can't hide; Now's de time to send dat niggah, Fo' de milk she needs inside.

Brudders lissen to ma prayer, Drink yo' milk-dat ain't no sin, But I'm de ass dat Goldwyn Meyer Drains to bath de film stars in.

(American Negro Folk Song-Circa 1958) (BARBARA ROE)

Milk drinking song to be sung by an English partici- pant with chorus of compatriots : Sow: Come on, chaps, make the best of it, It's chock-a-block, vow, With protein and the rest of it Digested by the cow.

The French just can't succumb to it, The Yanks invert their thumb to it- CHORUS : We'll add a drop of rum,to t And get It down somehow. Mow: Although it may seem mad for us The effort's stuff to soak, The effort's not as bad for us

As for the other bloke.

The Scots just dip their chin in it, The Irish think there's sin in it- CHORUS : We'll put a drop of gin in it

And down it though we choke.