Hash 1042

Last week I had an email from Ken with a poem he had written in it (it’s a new end to Sooper's Chips in a bucket poem) Here it is. 

 

               The chips that came in a bucket. A poem by Sooper Cooper.
               Now he does' t write trash and he's  good on the hash,
               In fact he's an all round trooper.

               But something went ping in my cranial thing
               when I read his cracking sonnet.
               Just one more verse (call me perverse)
               Needed putting upon it.

               So here s my ending in poor taste I know,
               I hope that no ones offended,
               But if I had written that Bucket poem,
               This is how it would have ended.

               Coming through the pub door,
               I slipped on the floor, 
               As I tripped I shouted **** IT 
               For I landed face down and bloody near drowned,

               In those chips that came in a bucket

Ken's poetic fervour was the inspiration, I was not "averse" to giving poetry a try

‘Twas a dark and dire evening
As we gathered all around
To hear hare Barney tell us
Of the flour to be found.

We set off south to Downley
With the forest all around
And found a lot of shiggey
All spread upon the ground

Some people ran around it
Some people went right through
But no one tripped in to it
To which we all went, Phew!

And soon we were in Downley
We’d run a little bit
And Barney marked a regroup
Where we had a long-short split

The Longs ran round the Common
The evening air was still
We turned off at a right check
And down a dirt-great hill

And somewhere near the bottom
We ran back to the top
And Helen flashed on past us
Why does she never stop?

We ran between the houses
With the locals looking on
Eventually we found a check
And someone yelled On-On

Then at last a wood we found
I had a chat with Jo
She told me Bungee Jumping
Was the great way to go

I said I couldn’t do it
I couldn’t jump like that
I’d worry at the bottom
That I’d make a noise like SPLAT!

She also jumps from aeroplanes
I’m sure she dresses cute
But next time Jo remember
To wear your parachute

And then we went to Hughenden
It made me feel quite ill
As I knew we ‘de have to run
Up yet another hill

And next we turned back to the pub
The pace became quite fast
As every hasher realised
They’d get a drink at last

Back in the pub we had some chips
The GM rose, and then
Presented three fine T shirts
To Sarah, Matt and Ken

And here my tale’s sadly done
I’ve no more rhymes – not even one
I sometimes wish I’d not begun
As here unto the end I come