jessa

Follicle to Fundament

I'm not James Bond or
Jimmy Beard,
But I know what to drink with weird;
There was a list which I was sent,
From follicle to fundament:
White or red?
Your meal's still dead:
Just get fed,
And go to bed.

Chardonay with fish fillet?
Chops with Vosne Romanee?
Whether to drink old or young?
(Rampling or Christensen?)

When I drink there is no doubt,
I place my order and make it stout:
Guinness and a Jameson--
What was it that you called me, then?

Cape buffalo, lion, antelope,
I'd even order for the Pope;
ChristBlood singing in a chalice,
Sweet red wine drunk without malice.

In to Bourbon's slurried well,
Amber pours and secrets tell
Of intermittent deprivations,
And mean slags pouring thin potations.
...

I know a spot to sup with chums
With demis, mags and jeroboams:
To start, How about an apertif?
Kir? Why not? But 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 Verte waves her magic wand;
And if there is no place to go,
We'll stay inside with Veuve Clicquot;
Coffee, grappa, chocolate cake--
The last request that waiter's take: