Elvis' first published poem written under a nom de plume for that august magazine "The Chap"

From eau-de-vie to usquebaugh
Via Chateauneuf-du-pape
A snifter lets one’s spirit soar
It fortifies a chap

A snort, a drop, a dram, a nip
Is what the doc prescribed
Unless the tincture gives you gyp
And should never be imbibed

So when mine host says it’s your shout
Here’s a whisper to the wise
There’s a green moonshine one can do without
For that way madness lies

This wormwood grog scrubs out the brain
Fries talent to mirepoix
Many a Manet has gone down the drain
It sent Degas ga-ga

Chosen gargle of the aesthete
Its dangers - manifest
Toulouse Lautrec shrunk by two feet
Van Gogh’s left ear went west

It tastes of petrol and polo-mints
It is a poisoned chalice
It makes this seasoned tippler wince
“Beware Absinthe of Malice”