I'm not James Bond or Jimmy Beard
But I know what to drink with weird.
White or red,
Your meal's still dead,
Just get fed and
Go to bed.
And whether to drink old or young
Is down to Rampling or Christensen.
Chardonay with fish fillet
And meat with Vosne Romanee.
But when I drink,
There is no doubt,
I place my order and
Make it stout:
A Guiness and a Jameison,
'What was it that you called me, then?'
Cape buffalo, lion, antelope,
I'd even order for the Pope.
Christ-blood singing in a chalice,
Sweet red wine drunk without malice.
Abstemious host?
The Father, Son, without the Ghost.
For there is spirit stronger still,
There's Mountain Dew in them there hills;
Unfettered by the soul's religion--
Black Velvet bubbles,
Paris to Dublin.
To begin, how about an apertif?
Kir, why not? Please make it brief.
And should you want a postprandial,
The green stuff's good after a while.
Absinthe makes the tart grow fond,
La fee vert waves her magic wand.
And if there is no place to go,
I'd stay inside with Veuve Clicquot.
It's time to drink your rations up,
To lullabies that fill your cup.
Posted via email from DOGMEAT
