Hash 1038

The chips.
They came in a bucket.
That's why they'll remember this hash.
Not the hills, nor the shiggy,
not the race with the shorts,
But the chips,
that came in a bucket.

We met in the car park,
played tetris with cars,
had lessons on circuitry signs.
New hashers were greeted
and promises slated,
of chips,
that came in a bucket.

A run up the road to
the spot where we drank
beer for the last, late GM.
I forget what we ate then
but I think I'd remember
chips
that came in a bucket.

Up cross the field,
into Lower North Dean
then higher and higher we climb
Through a wood (Little Stocking)
to Naphill the Common. On on
to chips
that came in a bucket.

Down the lane like the Clappins,
to Courns Wood and then
downhill to Upper North Dean.
Yet still up from the Upper
towards our pub supper
of chips
that came in a bucket.

At Piggots we split.
Long and short different paths.
A race to the pub. To the victors
the kudos, the ketchup,
the beer, and
the chips
that came in a bucket.

In the woods I took the
path less hashed.
Ever the wrong thing to do.
But a fight through the brambles
got me back to the track - saved
my chips,
that came in a bucket.

At last open air, and below,
the welcoming glow
of the Harrow.
No stopping us now as unlike the plough
we speed down to
our chips
in their bucket.

In the snug. Warm and dry
it's quiz night. But why
is the question on everyones' lips.
It's answered of course by the beer
and good cheer.
And the chips.
That came in a bucket.