Gin. Or vodka.
Note: A martini does not contain crème de menthe. Or peach schnapps. Or melon liqueur or any other such component more traditionally found in the test kitchens of Godiva Chocolates, regardless of what upscale "martini bars" may list on their little dance-card-esque menus.
But I digress.
The evils of gin are illustrated in this cautionary verse, origins unknown but undoubtedly of more recent creation than Hogarth's work:
One martini's my limit --
Two at the very most!
For with three I'm under the table--
And four I'm under the host!
Well, we are all forewarned!
Here's one of mine, likewise cautionary:
A little dark, perhaps, but I like it just the same. Let me know if you think I should switch to beer.Martini Girl
by Mary Chase
Born on the cuspBetween vodka and ginHer mom was an oliveHer dad was a FinnOld Mom walked on toothpicksHer dad – not at all(seemed like fate they’d conspiredto conceived at all)When she was a toddlerShe staggered and reeledAs a girl her aromaGot her pitched out of schoolHer elegant figureMade a hit with the guys(til they looked intothose bold pimento eyes)One night she rambledThe streets full of griefShe encountered some rough boys-- they all sought reliefThey left just enoughFor the coroner’s art(and when he was finishedthey pickled her heart).