Northampton one ball tournaments - in verse!

[<<] [>>] by Lionel Tibble
14-15 Oct 2007 (Other News)

They came from near, they came from far
The wonders to behold
Four perfect lawns to play on
The destiny of the bold.

Burnett and Nicks, Gaunt and Arthur
Swaffield and Dave Mundy
Not Trumpton firemen at all
But contestants through till Sunday

Thick and fast the games did flow
The valiant they did stumble
Especially after lunchtime came
With my banana crumble

John Spiers fresh from foreign climes did crash
Through hoops from long way off
The balls were running well for him
Until the wheels came off

Don Gaunt was having none of this
A player of real class
Supported by his faithful wife
Seated on her chair.

No grudges held, no quarter given
The players gathered round
To applaud the winner Bob Burnett
Who is also somewhat round.

In a tired but happy frame of mind
Over dinner all were talking
Little did they know that night
That one would go sleep walking

Four a.m. and slumber is broken
A window rattles from without
"I've woke up in the car park, Dave
And now I'm all locked out"

"I can't get in my room at all
Let me stay in yours instead"
Before the door is properly closed
He's tucked up in Dave's bed.

Sunday was a different matter
Advance play came in range
With wholesome Banana stew for lunch
Why is life so strange?

Herr Dieter Porke is not around
If so he'd surely quibble
At the frivolous use of that noble fruit
By the chief of the tribe of ibble.

Into the valley of death they walked
Between lawns one and two
No one knows if they'll emerge again
Except for Charlie Askew

An elderly gentleman of some renown
Stands confounded at the sight
Frustrated Blobby Bryce utters forth
"These b*s are too tight"

Fun and games are over now
An ibble takes the prize
Incredulous gasps echo across the lawns
For a banana of such size.