In Jack’s Defence.
by Bob Smith
I’m pleased to meet you, mine name’s Jack,
I sometimes take a mighty whack.
Bowls come at me, Bowls galore,
They seldom touch me, that’s for sure,
Here on Yealmpton’s Green.
Poor old Dave, he tries his best
Take’s no break or even rest,
Sometimes he’s short, but never worry,
His next is steaming like a lorry,
But I still feel safe on Yealmpton’s Green
I only have a single friend, his name is Mat,
We live together in the hut,
Downtrodden at the other end,
A long way from his yellow friend,
We both feel good on Yealmpton’s Green.
Some call me Jack, others Jenny,
Where do I go to spend a penny,
I seek advice from the Green boys,
But they’re too busy with their toys,
Cutting grass on Yealmpton’s Green.
The Brown Team, they’re no better,
Never there when it gets wetter,
The answer comes out of the black,
“Use Marcia’s toilet at the back!”,
There’s great relief on Yealmpton’s Green.
A skip beside me with a frown,
Often throws his towel down,
Don’t be short we hear him bellow,
Will this fellow ever mellow,
Scary times on Yealmpton’s Green.
One last plea before I go,
To finish off this tale of woe,
Save me from, what’ere I’ve done,
Those weirdos in division 1,
I want to stay on Yealmpton’s Green.
And so, where do we go from here,
Stop the bowls & have a beer,
I know a place, it’s out of town,
Let’s all go down the Rose & Crown,
And celebrate Yealmpton’s Green.