COMPETITION

No. 569: Soul food

The lapel badges which (it was made known this week) are to be issued by the Labour party bear such slogans as I'M A SOUL MATE. MATE!' and `GET LIFE AND SOUL AND WIN. Competitors are invited to imagine that the Conservative party chooses to imitate this publicity device, and to suggest appropriate wording for the badges. Slogans, it should be remembered, may range from the horta- tory Coo EAST OF SUEZ, YOUNG MAN!') to the encouragingly revelatory (TED's ()Erma MARRIED!). Limit, ten words per badge; entries by 19 September.

No. 566: The winners

Trevor Grove reports: It was recently re- ported that a bridge might be built to link the island of Skye with the Scottish main- land. Competitors were invited to indicate how the old song, 'Over the sea to Skye.' would have to be rewritten to take account of this; or how any other traditional song. linked to a famous place, might be brought up to date to take account of similar modernisation. The Betjemanesque nature of this exercise clearly met with approval amongst our resident champions and, more's the pleasure, tempted some powerful new names to enter the lists, amongst them, for instance, M. K. Cheeseman singing the pleasures of Skye-style haggis and chips, and Tom Brewer, who wins two guineas:

0 Danny Boy, brickbats and stones are flying From street to street, all over old Bogside; The windows smash, the wives and kids are crying.

The cops are here: 'tis you must run and hide.

But come ye back when Bernadette's done

devilling, When Reverend Ian no more rocks the boat, In Derry town, then how we'll all be revelling!

0 Danny Boy, 0 Danny Boy,—One Man, One Vote!

Another is F. Galway, who just pipped Vera Telfer (on the same theme) at the post with this pleasing version of 'Jerusalem the golden':

Jerusalem the golden, With bomb and bullet cursed,

What hopes can now embolden—

We can but fear the worst; 0 luckless Holy City, That bears full many a scar; Thou symbol of contention Twixt Crescent, Cross and Star.

Three guineas to Mr Galway. While a majority of competitors stuck to Skye larks, only Denis Constable, for his engaging second verse- . . . Kyle of Lochalsh, gone is your quay: Kyleakin's quickly here- Broadford—Portree—Where was the sea? Where was the landing pier? . . .

—and P.• W. R. Foot, who wins three guineas, were in the running for a prize:

Sing me a song for a Skye that I long Where offices stand by the sea; Jump on the train roaring over the bridge, Isle of Industry.

Mull is behind, Rum on your left, Eigg you will see anon;

Glory of Skye once fired my soul, Where has that glory gone?

Speed bonny train with pistons that sing, Loudly the sirens cry:

Hail to the day Charles born to be king Goes over the bridge to Skye!

Three guineas for an ingenious wheeze to J. M. Crooks:

Look! I see the screen is brightening, Batman fearful foes is frightening, Swirling suds are whiter whitening Ena's old hair-net!

Men of Harlech, lie ye dreaming? While Welsh Westerns ye are scheming See ye not your viewers, screaming, Smashing up the set?

Special mentions to R. L. Sadler, to N. J. Rock for a novel version of 'Banbury Cross' and to Tim O'Dowda for some fraught reflections on the difficulties of motoring to St Ives. Finally, four guineas to E. 0. Par- rott: Tom Pearce, Tom Pearce, lend me your

Corsair, All-along out-along downalong lea For I wants to buy at Widecombe Fair Canned cider, witty bookmark, Cornish pasty, Cornish Piskie, funny postcard, brass ashtray, And a tinned clotted cream tea and all And a tinned clotted cream tea and all.

Well, Friday come, and Saturday noon, All-along out-along downalong lea

Tom Pearce's Corsair had not motored

home With canned cider etc. . . .

On Saturday night, it come back to the mill All-along out-along downalong lea Having been stuck in the jam on Widecombe Hill With canned cider etc. . . .