Let the Scotsman yearn or yell
For the taste of Yorkshire pudding
Let the English family dwell.
For the famed Tandoori Chicken
That Punjabis praise like hell
But for us Mangies and Goans
There's nothing like SORPOTEL !
From the big wigs in Colaba
To the small fry in Cavel
From the growing tribes in Bandra
To the remnants in Parel
From the lovely girls in Glaxo
To the boys in Burma Shell
There's no Mang-Goan whose mouth won't water
When you talk of SORPOTEL !
And Oh! for Christmas dinner
Don't you think it would be swell
If by some freak of fortune
Or by some magic spell
We could, as they have in Goa
A bottle of the cajel
And toddy leavened sannas
To go with SORPOTEL !
And from good ol' Kolkata,
Please let me add some thoughts,
Of hing-aer kachouris, and tea in chatty-pots.
A perfect combination,
I'm sure you'd remember well,
But for that sit-down dinner,
It's got to be SORPOTEL !
Now the anglo-bras will swear,
by smelly balichow,
And butt curry from Chulias,
(You know, the innards of the cow.)
But they get all stoned and dreamy
when they get that heady smell,
of toddy-drunken sannas and steaming SORPOTEL !
And every bloke from Cal,
Will talk of kati roll.
Of puchkas, dalpuri and nehari,
And sometimes maachaer jhol.
Panthey Kowswey jhalfrezee and pepper water
Oh I love them as well,
But if we have to go to the polls
I VOTE FOR SORPOTEL !
(Author unknown !!)
....sent in by Patricia Morris: Delhi
