Merrydown Cider

The meteorological entity known as The Jet Stream is, apparently, responsible for the miserable “Summer” weather currently affecting us here in poor, beleaguered England.  Whatever the reason, it is consoling, at times like this, to conjure up visions of more favourable summers in the past: sun-filled days, relaxing with a chilled glass of lager – or cider.

I have written before (in a post simply titled “Cider”) about the many virtues of cider as an alcoholic beverage.  In fact, I am so fond of it that I have written, over the years, several poems about different varieties and brands of cider.  One of the first brands to become commercially popular in the UK was “Merrydown” – available in both “Dry” and “Sweet” varieties.  Whilst some cider purists turned their noses up at it, many – including me – found Merrydown to be refreshing, tasty, and economically priced.  In addition to this, it was, despite the scorn of the purists, actually made from genuine cider apples.  My poem is an attempt to capture the robust, earthy, vibrant virtues Merrydown embodies for me.

Merrydown Cider:

Curvaceous green bottle,
to be hefted by hand.
To be swigged from, gaily,
by toilers on the land.

See them glug it gladly.
Zesty, bubbling, tasty.
Made to wash down
the savoury Cornish Pasty.

So come, lady.  Come merrily.
See the buttercup-liquid flow.
With a hey nonny-nonny!
With a hey nonny-no!

Come, lady.  Come merrily.
Let us drink this vintage down.
Whilst sun-kissed branches
strew Russets on the ground.

Come, lady.  Come merrily.
Sing gleefully, I say.
For with you I will tarry.
For with you I will lay.

Let us join hands together.
Come, lady, lift your gown.
To the muse of Terpsichore,
let us tread the turf down!

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