No. 515: The winners Trevor Grove reports: Competitors were invited
to compose an octet, using the given rhyme words, on either summer holidays in England, the us presidential election, or a postman's apologia for the higher postal charges . . . not exacting subjects in themselves, but the rhymes —from Wordsworth's 'She was a phantom of delight'—undoubtedly favoured the holiday- makers. G. J. Blundell, for instance, who wins three guineas, demonstrates a sturdy resource- fulness in the face of Britain's climatic vagar- ies and incidentally proves himself a dab hand at heroic couplets : How smooth this English beach, its crowds how gay! What beauties here the ravished eye waylay! Truly, this place from Heaven might be sent To be Earth's pleasure-giving ornament. But then, alas! upon the scene so fair The black witch, Cloud, lets down her rainy hair, And visitors, with faces set and drawn, Cry, 'Curses on that bright red sky at dawn!'
Further afield, Brian Allgar was one of the few to plunge bravely into the muddy waters of the American election scene and re-emerge unsullied—and furthermore, five guineas to the good : The world moves on as canvassers waylay The delegates; now Humphrey's not so gay, And poor McCarthy's minions, long of hair, Complain that Russia's timing is not fair.
But for Republicans, the goal's in sight; They view the current crisis with delight, And think the Czech invasion heaven-sent To serve as Nixon's single ornament.
The bank holiday produced a rare haul of entries, but alas, no one else was quite up to the three-guinea mark; however, an honourable mention to Captain Rochester for his 'Those who go down to the sea with chips' and to Dr R. L. Sadler, who produced an amusing parody but unfortunately allowed his muse rather too long a gallop; here are the first three stanzas: I foresee, Postman William, one Saturday dawn When my eight selections—no others—are drawn; But why must a fivepenny stamp ornament My Littlewood envelope, this Friday sent? `Your question is sound, Son, your attitude fair, And I won't try evasion nor splitting a hair, But I must tell you this, and I say with delight That it isn't an increase—as seems at first sight.'
`It's like this,' said the sage, 'the penny you pay For a new class of mail delivered next day : Many years it's done this, but now it costs more For this service was never called "Special"
before.'
Finally, a guinea to I. M. Connor for identi- fying the source of the rhymes.
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