Broadwas Croquet Club – An Ode

Broadwas Croquet Club A Poet’s Inspiration

I’ll tell you a tale about Broadwas

It’s an epic, I’m  sure you’ll agree

It’s a story of near misses and heartbreak

All occurring on Mount Stoney Ley

Let me tell you a tale about Broadwas

It’s rolling hills feared near and wide

Only conquered by those who discover,

Balls ne’re go straight, veering off to the side

Let me fill you with myths about Broadwas

Of the bravery and skill that is shown

In attempts to secure Champagne moments

(More chance, getting blood from a stone!)

This tale I will tell about Broadwas

Speaks of feasts once a year full of gammon

Though the leader Fran Wall often takes aim

Like he’s actually fishing for salmon

This story I tell about Broadwas

Led by a great croquet warrior, John Guy

Who protects us and leads us victorious

(Don’t say ‘Golden Hoop’ in his ear, or you’ll die)

Let me tell you of styles up at  Broadwas

To be happy, embrace your own stance

Like the clearing whizz that is David Harington

But I’d ask “Too much starch in his pants?”

What great glories you hear of at Broadwas

More treasures remain yet unfurled

Won by Smith, Wall, Faulkner and young Jon

Who  says with a wink “Next, the world!”

As the winter light spreads slow o’er Broadwas

Ne’re fear, for you’ll at least get a break

From muddy balls and bad jokes from Norris

By March, you’ll be ready for cake

ANON

I’ve Told You A Dozen Times Already!!

We’ve found ourselves a wordsmith,

His name is Felton – Paul,

He tells us tales of croquet

And keeps us in his thrall.

He tells us of the Broadwas lawns,

The balls veer out of true,

How hard it is to run a hoop,

And knock your ball right through.

He tells of all the players,

Of our lovely friendly game,

Many of whom just play for fun,

While others garner fame.

But in the midst of all this fun,

The comedy he wrote,

He mentions something personal,

That really gets my goat

So when you’re playing a tight game,

The score is six points each.

You turn to play the next long hoop,

Which your croquet ball must reach

Drive your ball on past the hoop,

Then turn to play it back,

Don’t let your oppo have a shot,

With either Blue or Black

You hoop with Red or Yellow,

Feel like a king or queen,

But the hoop it isn’t made of gold,

IT’S SIMPLY HOOP THIRTEEN.

John Guy

I’m Definitely Not Giving Champagne Away For THAT!!

A bashful young mallet called Ted

Just couldn’t stop hitting the red

When it came to six all

He’d strike the wrong ball

So there was no way he was panning for gold, was there?

Chris Croft

I’ll Say This, Then I Will Go Into Hiding

There is a club member called Guy

Whose expectations are terribly high

A crafty push shot will not please him one jot

And his next one will kiss you bye bye.

Jim Norris

Champagne? In Your Dreams!

There’s a little slice of heaven on Stoney Lee,

HQ for our wonderful croquet fraternity,

Charming characters make up our group,

Such a pleasure to be part of it from hoop to hoop.

There’s a legend of a seldom seen ‘Champagne Moment’ prize,

Though it’s only ever valid if seen by Mr Croft’s own eyes,

So we forge on in pursuit of this mystical thing,

With all the joy and happiness that the game of croquet brings.

William Cooke