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| | 1994
OUTING TO FORFAR
by
Bill Brooksbank (Capt 1993/94)
I’m here for tae tell you a
story, in fact I’ve written a tale,
About a Society based in
‘Muchty, who play golf and consume some strong ale.
It’s a pleasure to bid you
all welcome to our annual prize giving dance.
We’ve Ladies and Guests and
members, we can even welcome John Vance.
Now we’ve got guests and
guest and Gray, John is the name of the man,
He’s the captain of golf at
the Clubhouse, and always has something to plan.
It’s fine that our dance is
on Friday, to us that may not seem odd,
For had it been on a Saturday,
John’s friend would be here on her tod.
For John would be watching the
Rangers, shouting and cheering Olay,
We hope the game's played in
daylight, or he’ll have a job to pick out Boli.
Our outing this year went to
Forfar, the team was collected by bus,
That is, all but one member,
you never saw such a fuss.
We arrived at his place of
departure, the only thing there was the club. (Ladybank
Bowling Club)
We looked this way and that
way and after, thought, maybe he’s still in the pub.
Ballesteros was elected to
find him, to see if he was out of the bag (bed)
Eddie was quite willing to do
this but, only after he’d rolled up a fag.
So we set off for Forfar
without him, and arrived at the course safe and sound,
We checked all the gear and
the members, Ken Downie still couldn’t be found.
The coffee and rolls were
delivered, McDevitt was holding the fort,
When, "Hullo There"
was heard from the doorway, The Commander had breezed into port.
He was closely followed by
Powrie, who wondered how we’d all fared,
At his back was our only
supporter, the one, the only, Jock Baird.
Time was called and the golf
had to start, when out of the haze came a vision,
A stranger to boot, he had on
his suit. Ken Downie at last had arisen.
The captain teed off with
O’Riordan, and talk soon took over from golf,
There was 3’s and 12’s and
others, we felt like crying Fork Off.
Bombs blew up the tatties, the
treacle ran out ‘o’ the can.
The golf was worse than
hellish, but we’re still Colin’s No1 fan.
The golf day belonged to a
Powrie, Junior I hasten to add,
He won cups and sweeps and
prizes, a jolly good day he had.
The Champione was our local
reporter, Scoop followed a tight game plan
The scores were close, but he
won by a nose, Dave Balfour the name ‘o’ that man.
Keep a six off your card was a
winner, we’d all been having a go,
But the Yellow Jersey was
presented, to who else but the Local Pro.
We at last made for home, and
eventually arrived, at the village of Collessie,
The bus got stuck but not in
the muck. The locals must have thought it was Nessie.
Ballesteros was telling the
driver Forward, he, was trying to turn roon’,
Dick was leading the tenth
chorus of The Yellow on The Broom.
Everyone was giving
instructions, the driver nearly blew his big end,
Next time Eddie is with us,
he’ll get off at Collessie road end.
The stragglers got off at the
Cycle, one for the road we were telt,
We nearly all got home safely,
but the Captain had tae walk tae Dunshelt.
Next season a letter will be
drafted, to all the holes and the kerbs and the brick,
When the outing is going
homeward, please, don’t jump up and hit Dick.
Our season of golf has just
ended, and the prizes will soon be dished out,
If you didn’t win on the
golf course, our raffle will give you a shout.
My story is told, and I hope
you’re not bored, I’m not too hot at the verse,
My wife’s looking glum and
I’m feeling numb, I better sit doon on my erse.
The
above was recited (from memory - no notes!) at the 1994 Annual Prizegiving Dance
by Bill Brooksbbank.
Notes
on the event:
-
John
Gray (Ladybank Captain 1994) was our guest
-
Basile
Boli - French
/ Ivory Coast footballer signed by Rangers
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