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ISLAY CHEESE
(whose import into Italy was banned several years ago because of its alleged aphrodisiac qualities)
You Highland women I implore
Upon my bended knees,
Please do not eat one morsel more
Of that awful Islay cheese.
No more the "Tallies" smack their lips
O' er mounds of macaroni ;
They are not moved by fish and chips,
It's islay cheese for Tony.
Vincente Dopi - ninety-two -
Well past all thoughts of fun,
Ate half a pound and what he'd do,
But go and squeeze a nun.
The Pope has cried "Enough, enough,
Away with this love potion,
The wild and wanton Islay stuff
That puts them in the motion.
I banned the Pill - a sinful curse -
- I felt their moral soar -
And now there comes a thing far worse,
This menace from Bowmore."
Luigi Sili - eighty-four -
And never termed a flirt,
Went tearing out his own back door,
Chasing a mini skirt.
An old and shaking Genoese,
His pension was collectin'
Ate just one bite of Islay cheese
And now his wife is expectin'.
He chews a chunk and softly sighs,
"How I love this glorious cheesa,"
Looks up aloft and loudly cries :
"Get up them stairs, Teresa."
The old wife prays upon her knees
"Oh Lord, restrain his saillies,
And from this awful Islay cheese,
Protect us poor old Tallies."
From "Whisky Legends of Islay" by Robin Laing (Luath Press Limited, Edinburgh, 2009)
(whose import into Italy was banned several years ago because of its alleged aphrodisiac qualities)
You Highland women I implore
Upon my bended knees,
Please do not eat one morsel more
Of that awful Islay cheese.
No more the "Tallies" smack their lips
O' er mounds of macaroni ;
They are not moved by fish and chips,
It's islay cheese for Tony.
Vincente Dopi - ninety-two -
Well past all thoughts of fun,
Ate half a pound and what he'd do,
But go and squeeze a nun.
The Pope has cried "Enough, enough,
Away with this love potion,
The wild and wanton Islay stuff
That puts them in the motion.
I banned the Pill - a sinful curse -
- I felt their moral soar -
And now there comes a thing far worse,
This menace from Bowmore."
Luigi Sili - eighty-four -
And never termed a flirt,
Went tearing out his own back door,
Chasing a mini skirt.
An old and shaking Genoese,
His pension was collectin'
Ate just one bite of Islay cheese
And now his wife is expectin'.
He chews a chunk and softly sighs,
"How I love this glorious cheesa,"
Looks up aloft and loudly cries :
"Get up them stairs, Teresa."
The old wife prays upon her knees
"Oh Lord, restrain his saillies,
And from this awful Islay cheese,
Protect us poor old Tallies."
From "Whisky Legends of Islay" by Robin Laing (Luath Press Limited, Edinburgh, 2009)