Thanks due to Lewis Carroll –

for his great rhyming truth

that described me to a ‘T’.

Yet without his then namesake,

a Charles Lutwidge Dodgson,

many would not share such glee


Tis the voice of my son George with poetic licence:

“You are old, Father Gavin,” your sole son said,
“And your hair has become very white;
And yet you succour whisky into your head;
At your age should you get so tight?”

“In my youth,” Father Gavin replied to his son,
I feared it might injure the brain;
But now that I’m perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again.”

“You are old,” said his son, “As I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you drank 12 year whisky balanced in the door—
Pray, what is the reason of that?”

“In my youth,” said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
“I kept my organs very supple
By the use of this liquor—twelve dollars a box,
Allow me to sell you a couple?”

“You are old,” said his son, “And your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak—
Pray, how did you manage to do it?”

“In my youth,” said his father, “I took to the law,
And argued my case with each wife;
And the muscular strength which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life.”

“You are old,” said the youth, “one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced a beer on the end of your nose
What made you so awfully clever?”

“I have answered three questions, and that is enough,”
Said his father; “don’t give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Go find me a new bottle downstairs!”

(This parody article by Gavin Tulloch is reproduced under licence from Energitismo Limited)

Gavin Tulloch

Scienziato e poeta. Ama la chimica, il vino, le donne e l’opera, ma non sappiamo in quale ordine


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *