It’s Elementary

I remember when I reached my fiftieth birthday and thought I was getting old, I started reflecting on my life as a devil-may-care teenager. As you do.

Nowadays, I find myself reflecting on life when I was fifty.

This is a daft wee poem I wrote a few years back when I was again reminiscing about my carefree days as a post-Woodstock hippy student.

Back then, as a welcome diversion from my studies and an ingenious way of attracting the attention of the local ‘burds’, I regularly participated in our Chemistry faculty’s drunken party-piece in the student beer bar.

Essentially, the rules were as follows. You had to recite the elements of the Periodic Table six-at-a-time and in order, then knock back a pint of lager before tackling the next six, and so on. Needless to say, what started out as an easy exercise got progressively more difficult and invariably ended in carnage. The winner was the one who managed to get through the most elements before his legs gave way.

It was a very mature game and one befitting of our country’s future generations of groundbreaking scientists … and I don’t think.

Anyway, to my poem.

When I was young and in my prime,
I had myself a whale o’ a time.
Big skinny bugger, long black hair,
That trailed behind me on the flair.

Academia was to blame,
For pulling me away from hame.
So off I went with Shug and Broony,
To try my luck at Strathclyde Uni.

Chemistry my new vocation,
Lectures (and a wee libation).
Until I found that I was able,
To learn the ‘Periodic Table’.

Extending to the pub at night,
I’d rattle it out with all my might,
Showing off to all the lassies,
Whilst draining numerous pint glasses.

The challenge set, the rules were clear,
‘Six elements pay a pint of beer!’
What started out an easy matter,
Got messier once I hit the batter.

Hydrogen, Helium and Beryllium,
Enough to drive the damsels sillium,
Not forgetting Lithium, mind,
Or other metals of its kind.

Next Carbon too and then to Boron,
A wee bit of an oxymoron.
By the time I’d worked my way to Neon,
At least four pints would have been fleein’.

Standing on my favourite podium,
I’d batter on and get to Sodium,
Knocking back another lager,
Reaching Argon with a stagger.

Phosphorus would be a steal,
Chlorine my Achilles heel.
Scandium, Chromium and Vanadium,
Impressing every single ladium.

The whole thing really was a breeze,
From Sulphur through to Manganese,
(Although one night I came a cropper,
And lost the plot, forgetting Copper.)

Before too long I’d get to Zinc,
Six pints consumed by then, I think,
My milestone always was Germanium,
Which pacified my spinning cranium.

By the time I’d made my way to Yttrium,
The lassies were in screaming fitriums.
They all just loved my party trick …
Some even gave my Ars-e-nic.

I’d wink at them from my wee podium,
And battle on to get to Rhodium.
But often when I reached Rubidium,
That would be the big Tin lidium.

Nine pints necked as I hit Barium,
My eyes by now completely squarium.
Indium, Iodine, Caesium, Cerium,
And all the burds in howling teariums.

Marching on to reach Europium,
The other guys just standing moapium,
As I made my way to Gold then Platinum,
My party piece designed to flatten ’em.

Ten pints scoffed when reaching Lead,
It’ll no’ be long till I’m in bed,
With yon wee burd that I quite fancium,
Two minutes later, Radon, Francium.

Twelve pints now and at Polonium,
By this time talking pure balonium.
But when at last I reach Uranium,
I really feel quite leave-me-alaneium.

Nearly there, I’m at Nobelium,
My stomach starts to heave and swellium.
I try to make it through to Hassium,
Alas, by now completely gassiumed.

And wish that I was back at Nickel,
Instead of being in such a pickle,
Then start to spew when reaching Dubnium …
And wish that I had shut my gubnium.