This week’s biscuit comes from Jo.
Strangely, it’s called Polo.
Wrapped in green and white and gold,
colours of Ireland, young and old.
By Jacobs of Dublin they’re made
where Molly Malone plied her trade.
As hard as sham rock, dry as bone,
a chip off the old Blarney Stone.
Don’t be confused by the name.
A Polo mint is not the same.
This is not a shirt you can wear
or a frozen, Arctic bear.
It’s not named for a famous Venetian
traveller with his camel train.
Princes don’t play this on horseback
nor is it a small German hatchback.
Sadly, Polo lacks that sweet zest
of Ireland at its green and friendly best.
As one is enough, rather than Polo
perhaps this cookie’s title should be Solo.