"Going All the Way in the Land of Thong"

We're Lilleshall's Touring Tigers, with fire in our hearts,
We've travelled down to Wales with a coach-load of old ... experienced bowlers.
We have a new tour mascot, on a trolley - to take walkies,
He's been brought in to take the strain and share the load with Chalkie.
And this year all the losing rinks, the so-called "Tail-Enders",
Have very fetching tiger's tails to dangle from their fenders!

We've got a brand new Longmynd coach, with means for making tea,
And better still a little room, where we can take a ... rest.
But we take care, when we're in there, we must avoid pollution,
We must ensure we're on the move, 'fore making our ablutions.
And Grenville says this room's too small, for cuddling up with Clare,
But there'd be room with Celia, if only she would dare!

Our Club tie brings advantages, at services, you see,
They thought Den was our driver, and offered a meal for free.
You must admit that that would be, a most amazing feat,
He'd never see right o'er the wheel, without a higher seat.

Now Emrys said that this was Clare's first trip upon the bus,
But when she said it wasn't, it caused a lot of fuss.
She's not a tour rookie, we clearly heard her say,
That last year - down in Eastbourne - she had gone "all the way".

And here's another saucy thing, at least so said the rumours,
That Margaret B had travelled down without spare pairs of bloomers.
But then the hotel found the missing bag, and closed the case,
And Marg was reunited with her thongs of silk and lace!

Now Marion, so someone said, is just a little floozie,
She kept on moving round to find, the jets in the jacuzzi!
She did well as our stewardess - a cuppa - 30p,
Though Grenville said her "other services" - are all for free!

On Monday we played Margam - British Steel, that's now called Corus,
And 'cause we beat them last time they were quite ready for us.
For though we had three winning rinks, it could be plainly seen,
That overall they'd beaten us by not-so-sweet sixteen.

Our Emrys had the winning rink, ignore him at your peril,
Especially when his rink is Margaret Cartwright, Mike and Beryl.
The losing rink, it moves around, but when we'd done the sums,
't'was George and George and Clare and Don with tails on their ... ends.

And also we did something that got Grenville in a huff,
He said that he was most upset, and that he'd had enough.
You see we got together, to take a photograph,
But did it when he wasn't there - to give us all a laugh.

Now Russ & Kay's electrics, they gave them such a fright,
Their fan seemed inextrica-bably linked up to their light.
But Russ he needed cooling down, if he was to perform,
Because their saucy antics had made him rather warm.
He said "let's do it darling, with light on, for a lark"
But he had to take the bulbs out, for them to cuddle in the dark!

My tries at saying long Welsh place names really make Em howl,
(I'm sure it would be easier if they used some ruddy vowels!)
Brynhyfryd means "Mount Pleasant" - a great green in the sun,
And better still, we sneaked a win, one-one-nine to one-two-one!

Amongst the opposition on our rink was lovely Gretta,
I caught her shin a fearful blow - and had to kiss it better.
She really was a real card, and knew a lot of jokes,
(and mostly of a kind that you can only tell to blokes!)

Top rink was our dear Silvia, along with Ted and Den,
And a very on-form Margaret Cartwright, winning once again.
And Margaret B and Russ and Pauline all got tails I hear,
And, of course (as always) 't'was Peter (A) bringing up the rear.

Now A.P. thought he was quids in - he'd placed a cunning bet,
But bookie Alan said he couldn't pay out winnings yet.
Our skip had made a ruling, that had old Palmer hopping,
As Sandra paid the stake, SHE won the cash - to go off shopping!

We always get a different driver, this one's name is Graham,
It seems that if they've had us once they never come again.
At Longmynd, navigation is never very hot,
We ended up in Swansea when we aimed for Port Talbot.
When Graham hits the roundabouts he very rarely brakes,
And never seems to understand which exit he should take.
Round and round and round he goes, and up over the grass,
And if he does it any faster he'll catch up his own ... exhaust!

On Wednesday, sunny Porthcawl, we played at Prince of Wales,
We really did enjoy it there, when Palmer won a tail.
With Don and Herbert leading, and Russ at number three,
He thought it would be easy, but it wasn't meant to be.
And cleaners in the Palmers' room, they saw the tail and toys,
So left some extra biscuits for the little girls and boys!

The winning lead was Audrey Attwood, the two was Margaret B,
The skip was good old Georgie Peake, with Pauline number three.
I must record that game's result, the best that we had seen,
The Tigers came out tops again and won by shots eighteen.

Alan Ghaut he asked the chef for special apple pie,
Now Emrys liked the look of that and thought he'd have a try.
A pint of cider did the trick, a portion topped with cream,
But when his back was turned it went - never to be seen.
But next day on the tables turned, two pieces were put by,
So while the others went without, the Captains had the pie!

We had a lot of injuries, bad elbows, knees and backs,
Three or more reserves brought in, to paper over cracks.
All day the cripples hobbled round, their walking far from frisky,
Yet they all sprang up sprightly for a chance to win some whisky!

I heard about a contest, that took place on the sands,
It was a very close fought thing, contestants shaking hands.
'Tween Dennis Collins and A.P., to see who furthest reaches,
the problem was the "missiles" - were noises from their breeches!

On Thursday, on the seafront, we played a game of cricket,
And Arthur took a tumble, and nearly hit his wicket,
And Emrys took a screaming catch, and Peter missed a sitter,
And Audrey showed that of the Attwoods - she's the bigger hitter!
We had a whale of a time, a game of fun and frolics,
Except for Alan Ghaut 'cause Celia hit him in the ... midriff!

That afternoon, fine weather, we played at Ystradgynlais,
I don't care that I can't say it, but to rhyme with it is hopeless!
We set off well, and at ten ends, five rinks were scoring plus,
Only one in danger of rude comments on the bus.
Now tea-time usually changes things, for better or for worse,
But Arthur's winning rink did something we've not had in verse.
With Sandra, Clare and Russ he had his oppo's in a state,
Scored one, two, three and four and five and six and seven and EIGHT!

Now Emrys started slipping, a lead went from his grip,
But 'spite a rearguard action, A.P. was losing skip.
And so he got a second tail, to take up to his bed,
And so did Silvie Lewis, and Marion and Ted.
But overall the game was won, skip happy on the bus,
The winning margin very good at something fifty-plus.

There're lots of people we must thank, like Alan Ghaut - the bookie,
He pays out cash to all his mates, and fleeces all the rookies.
And Sylvie R and Silvie L, who organised this outing,
And Tour Captain Emrys D - who sang - despite our shouting!
And all of those who sang along and tried to raise the ceiling,
And Clare, who gave the lads a thrill in T-shirts quite revealing!

Another tour is almost done, we've teardrops in our eyes,
We've only one game left to play, at lovely Hay-on-Wye.
So "Play-Up" all you Tigers, let rip your touring roar,
Next year we're off to Plymouth, to bowling go some more!

Now some may know that Hay-on-Wye is Emrys's home ground,
Indeed 'twas in this area his lovely wife he found.
He gave himself a loaded rink, he wanted to make sure,
However else the match turned out, he'd beat his father-in-law!
But in the end he scraped a draw, though many cried out "fix",
How else can you explain that on the last end he scored six!

You have to feel for Arthur though, for he took quite a slap,
One day gets a "hot-shot", the next day plays like ... the rest of us.
With Celia, George (L) and Pauline, he got the final tail,
As off into the sunset, our tour party sailed.
The winning rink was Alan Ghaut, with Peter (A), Clare and Liz,
They won by quite a margin, they really did the bizz!
For that made all the difference, and Emrys was in heaven,
For when the scores were totalled up, we'd won by shots eleven.

Now fiendish calculations, are used throughout the week,
To process all the scores - to find the champion, so to speak.
And when the marks were totted up, it came as no surprise,
that over all the others Margaret Cartwright did arise.

So there you have the story of our tour down to South Wales,
All the juicy gossip, and all the saucy tales.
So never mind the good, the bad, the winners and the losers,
The cricketers, the swimmers, and the singers and the boozers.
Our primary objective met - a week down in the sun,
To spend some time amongst good friends, to play bowls and have fun!

...

The first day it was at Margam, for the photo the team was assembled,
Then a cry came up from the clubhouse, "where the b****y hell's Grenville"

...

It was at Porthcawl when it happened, Pauline thought Christmas had fell,
She bowled her usual short woods, but pulled a batchelor called Noel!

...

There was a young chap name of Quentin,
Who tried, some whisky to win,
He got in fluster, when his thumb got a blister
And Joan won the prize - not him!

...

We set out on our journey, it was a lovely day,
down the leafy lanes we went, and on past Cardiff Bay.
Our Sylvias had planned the trip in the smallest details,
which included a tiger and four surprising tails!

Our first match at Margam, resulted in a loss,
but those without a tiger tail, they didn't give a ... fig
Our second game gave much to cheer,
including bowls and the cheapest beer!

We then went on from good to great, and Arthur's team they scored an EIGHT!
Today it is our final one, it has to be a job well done.
The in-laws Emrys wants to beat, so "come on Tigers - no retreat!"

Return to tours page