The Summer's here, the evenings long and Lilleshall's setting forth,
but Mike has turned the map around, this time we're heading North.
We've Longmynd's finest driver, taking us o'er dale and hillock,
his name is Bas, he is a gas, and really is a ... very good driver.
The penalties for doing wrong have cause the lads distress,
'cause this year, for the first time, we have a fine mistress.
Our Sylvia's collecting fines, so don't put up a fight,
pay heed to what she tells you - her bark's NOT worse than her bite!
My wife's not with me this year, I've come here on my own,
but I still get my orders, by text calls to my 'phone.
She says I must behave myself, and get to bed on time,
though she didn't actually specify the bedroom must be mine!
I'm taking home a ladies' scarf, there could be a kerfuffle,
I'm not sure I'll convince her I won it in a raffle.
She says I must not drink too much and not act like a clown,
but I know when I've had enough, 'cause that's when I fall down.
Now Cyril didn't want to skip, with Emrys he did plead.
"Oh let me play at number one, oh please do let me lead."
Now we all know the reason, no need to take a poll.
It would be too distressing if, yet again, he won the doll!
He really meant to join us, and drove the journey far,
but struggled when he got here and tried to stop his car.
Round and round and round he went, he spluttered and he coughed.
he found nowhere at all to park, and so he b*****ed off!
The hotel girls are charming, they're very pretty lasses,
they've always got a smile for us as they top up our glasses.
And then there is the manager, of whom we've no complaint.
he says his name is Matthew, but you can bet that he's no saint!
Now Julie has been pulling pints, we've teased her something rotten,
she really is a charming lass, with such a lovely ... smile.
We hoped to know her better, it could have caused a fracas,
but judging from our Barry's smile, he got his hands on her maracas!
The lift they've got here's steam-powered, at least that's what they say,
and needs some gentle coaxing to send it on its way.
You have to be so careful, to firmly close all doors,
or else you spend the evening, marooned between two floors.
It's such a disappointment, than no-one has got stuck,
and if you think this rhyme is rude, I'm afraid you're out of luck!
A natty line in waterproofs was shown by Dennis Blake.
He said they were unusual, a real exclusive make.
To me they looked quite ordinary - a normal shower cap,
and as for being designer - that's just a load of ... nonsense.
Now Sylvie R and Silvie L got quite a nasty shock,
when taking cases to their room the door they did unlock.
For there was one enormous bed with coverlet so sweet.
They found that they'd been allocated to the bridal suite.
They puzzled and they wondered, which way was best to sleep.
Bum to bum? Boob to boob? Or even head to feet.
They couldn't find an answer, to move they did decide,
and as the room was emptied, the Prestons slipped inside.
Sylvie R was very worried, Silvie L would not feel right,
with nothing in her bed to keep her warm throughout the night.
So she got a little something to make her feel at home
a little short and greying chap - a real gnome from gnome!
Our bookie's name is Alan Ghaut, who in the past I have mis-spelt.
I'd better get it right or else he'll give me such a belt.
He's taken all our money, and sorted out our ranking,
It takes an awful lot of work, Alan - please accept our thanking.
And speaking of hard work put in, one pair we must not miss
the tour organisers - Mike Caird and lovely Liz.
Five years they've taken on the task and given of their best,
so finally they've decided to take a well earned rest.
They will be tough to follow, but bowlers never fear,
for Sylvies R and L are taking on the task next year.
There's talk of going to Eastbourne, where cardigans are knitten,
but if we lot all go there, they won't know what has hit 'em!
Sylvie Richards had a fish pie and felt she must complain.
The sauce contained no fishy chunks, in fact 'twas rather plain.
At last she found a fish bone, but still we'd have to say,
the fish from which they made the pie was one that got away.
Mike Caird and Herbert Griffiths, Peter Preston, Audrey "A",
they held the losing record upon the opening day.
And looking for a winning rink no further did we seek
than Peter (A), Annie, George and "C", who showed their form was 'Peake'.
Now Silvie (L) found a handsome man and gave him such a squeeze
it really took his breath away and brought him to his knees.
She gave him such a cuddle, her hand inside his shirt,
You cannot take her anywhere - she's such a little flirt (alright then - BIG flirt!)
At Edenside a ski-slope made a rhyme I can't resist,
I'm sure I saw our Grenville heading off out "on the piste!"
Now which rink wins the sticks each day can turn out rather freaky,
this day 'twas Frances, Renee, Alan Winters and George "Peaky!"
Alan Palmer thought he'd won the game and notched the highest score,
but some irregularities left just ajar the door.
The stewards held enquiries of evidence concerned,
the score - recalculated - showed the match was overturned.
So Emrys said that he had won, but to show an even hand,
and because the moneys were paid out, the first result did stand.
Our Captain, so it is alleged, was seen around the town,
the reputation of our Club, most surely bringing down.
He wandered left and staggered right, a beer glass in his hand,
it could have been much worse I guess - at least he could still stand.
Now Celia was talking 'bout her bed - she is a card,
I said that mine was fine, she asked me "is it hard?"
I said that well it could be, if her cards she played alright,
and that's how come my trousers were in her room all night.
In truth it wasn't that you know, a seam had come undone,
and every time that I bent down you could see right ... over my shoulder.
Our Brian's collecting badges - he's nearly got them all,
and when he has we'll hang him up for decoration, on the wall.
His lapels are now so heavy he can hardly walk at all,
and there's certainly no chance that we could lift him if he falls!
Our Chairman Frank's been studying green-keeping, yes it's true,
and asking all the clubs we've played what should we really do.
He called across to Emrys, who knew not what it meant,
"This groundsman chappie has agreed to show us his equipment!"
Alan Ghaut's been chatting up the staff, each evening at dinner,
and getting special treatment - he's really on a winner.
The waitress said she'd give him something special - apple pie,
and Celia gave him something special too - boom, boom, one in the eye!
Canvassing opinion, Alan Palmer asked around,
where should he place the bathmat, that in his room he found.
It could be in, it could be out, where should the thing be set?
But despite all his asking he hasn't found out yet.
Now Matthew says it's luxury, it's quality is tops,
but Alan thinks it's only made from packs of Coco-Pops.
And when he steps out from the bath, and shakes just like a doggy,
it isn't just the bathmat that shrivels up all soggy!
Now Renee came to join us, what of us will she make?
The risque conversation and the liberties we take.
She must have started out with trepidation and with fear,
if you think that you can stand it, Renee, please come back next year.
Alan Palmer started dancing, I tell you - there's a thing,
and whilst he shimmied all around chandeliers began to swing.
We thought that it was Alan, 'cause he'd been on the whisky,
but then we found it was the Attwoods, upstairs, getting frisky!
The third match on our tour is where we've oft' times come to grief,
but under Beryl's leadership we hoped to turn a leaf.
We did our best - she wasn't chuffed,
by Workington - completely stuffed!
The opposition would be tough, we expected on that day,
so those that were not up to it decided not to play.
They shouted and they heckled, but ain't it all the same,
the ones whose woods aren't on the green can play the perfect game!
Now Barry's off on holiday, to relax from all the strain,
he thought he'd go abroad to get away from hail and rain.
He's going with a load of mates, to see if they can pull,
they'll buy the talent lots of booze, and feed them lots of bull.
He'll take protection, 'gainst disease, he doesn't want malaria,
he told me that he likes big birds, so he's going to Gran Canaria!
Now Pauline sells the tickets, up and down the bus she wends,
her bustle swinging left and right as we hurtle round the bends.
She folded all the counterfoils, and put them in the draw,
Except, of course, for Alan Ghaut's - she threw them on the floor!
At Dalston, substitution made all the punters think,
for Grenville had assembled an apparent loaded rink.
An opposition player, referring to the foursome,
was overheard to say that Annie's "absolutely awesome!"
Now Alan Ghaut says leading, is where the games are won,
and stepped out confidently to show us how it's done.
He said that he had one good bowl, a very nice back toucher,
but Grenville bowled a "blunder wood" and put it in the gutter!
And so the "rink of rinks" was fallen, wounds they had to lick,
cause each and every one of them was walking with a stick.
Alan Palmer skipped the winning rink, with Margaret, Frank and Beryl,
he always takes it seriously - don't back him at your peril.
Now everyone said Appleby would be a super end,
to a lovely friendly tour amongst our Cumbrian (and Westmorland) friends.
And they were proved completely right, the end result was "perfick"
cause Geoff and "C" and awesome Anne helped Emrys win a stick!
Now Magaret B was leading, you'd think she was so gentle,
but when her oppo put one on she went completely mental.
Her hackles started rising, her eyes were steely bright,
she stepped up briskly on the mat - and fired it out of sight!
At Appleby another ringer caused a lot of fuss,
and bets were not paid out before a conflab on the bus.
But despite all the inquiries, and double-checks and audits,
Sandra, George and Audrey "B" and Peter ("A") took the plaudits.
So there you are, we played our best, we won four games of five,
and though we lost at Workington, we did escape alive.
A policeman sternly asked us if we had weapons on the bus,
when we said "no" he said "well then you'd better borrow some from us!"
The tour is nearly over, we've teardrops in our eyes,
the ode is nearly over too, I must apologise,
to anyone omitted, to any I have missed,
you see I've written most of this while very, very ... tired.
To organisers, hotel staff, ladies and gentlemen,
it really is a crying shame we can't be here again.
A most compelling reason, I'm sure you'll realise,
the only way we could come back is to apologise.
The ditty's finally over, so to colleagues oh so dear,
there's only one thing left to say - let's do it again - next year!