The 2003 National Ladies Seniors Final. By: the One Lane Bowler.
It seems that folk think team events are just for t’macho lot,
But here’s a tale to freeze the blood and fill their nose with snot.
Cos when the challenge was thrown down; fer t’counties head to head,
Twas only grannies didn’t fold. Theres nowt else to be said.
They did the washing, ironed their vests and had a nip of gin.
Then packed a suitcase, fed the cat and threw all t’scraps in t’bin.
Next down to t’bank to get some cash, cos nothing comes for free,
Then grab those precious bowling balls. (And have a final wee.)
Big Mo flew down with Irene an’ Sheila flew as well.
Mike ferried Babs and Lucia down. (They say he drove like hell.)
Wee Carol got her husband to take a week off work.
So he made sure she got there. (She wouldn’t let him shirk.)
Well Maureen’s mob they hit Big Town – by car and aeroplane,
They’d polished balls and well washed smalls and winning was their aim.
The flyers stayed in th’Aerodrome, the car folk slept next door,
(The bowl were forty yards away, an’ t’beds were on t’ground floor.)
They had a wash and had a nip, then settled down fer t’nite,
Then rose wi t’ chirpin’ sparrows and off to grab a bite.
A restaurant in wi t’bowling lanes, now there’s a good idea,
Cos corn flakes, egg and rashers, are known to banish fear.
By ten o’clock the stage was set, all teams were fit to go,
But introductions must be made – each bowler put on show.
This posin’ put em off their stride. They kind of went off t’boil,
And someone darkly muttered: "They’ve doubled t’ bloody oil."
I think the posin’ put em off, cos standin’ out on t’lane,
An lookin back at ball returns, was never part o’ t’game.
They all looked quite embarrassed and didn’t know what to do.
Then Carol, she said "Bugger this, I’m headin’ for the loo."
The Dorset girls were first in line, it seemed they couldn’t fail,
They rolled the ball, the pins fell down like slugs that’s suppin’ ale.
But our lot found the headpin and practised loads of splits,
And even when they hit one-three; they still had pick up t’bits.
Well that game went. They lost of course. And anger settled in.
They’d lost to southern softies. It really was a sin
They’d not come here to look like fools. That’s not what it’s about,
So nostrils flared and knickers hitched: they vowed to end the rout.
The beating up of Berkshire was, a sight that’s rarely seen,
Our Barbara must have been on th’ale; she rolled two-seventeen.
But Lucia weren’t to be out done, she went and scored ten more,
Left Berkshire more than a ton behind, it was our highest score.
Next in line were th’Essex girls and another rampant win,
When Barbara banged in two-fifteen, it really did them in.
Then Yorkshire stopped the dreaming and showed our lot the way.
And tho’ we often beat em’ They had us on the day.
They lost the last and that were that, the first day were a bore,
The girls had nowt to shout about. Two won – two lost were t’score.
The evening meal was quite a hit, a little strange – but nice,
Wi’ dishes from around the world; like catfish cooked wi’ rice.
Wi’ a restaurant in the centre; they din’t have far to go,
They left the booze and dancin’; to t’counties down below.
They can bowl wi’ throbbin heads. (Coz that’s what daft folk do.)
Or spend all night on t’phone to God, wi heads stuck down the loo.
Well Sunday morning came around, as Sunday mornings will,
They had early breakfast, a shower, an’paid the bill.
There was Maureen, Barbara, Sheila. Irene was there as well,
With little Carol at the back , not forgetting Lucia Chell.
With only five more games to play; they really got stuck in,
Though they were nowhere on the board; they had the will to win.
It’s sad they lost to Yorkshire, the blue girls had a gloat.
But they weren’t doin’ much themsels. In fact they’d missed the boat.
Middlesex were easy meat, then Hearts. went just the same,
Kent put up a struggle next, but couldn’t hold the game.
With three games won on t’ final day; twere possible to win,
But fate it can be cruel sometimes – and now it did them in.
With two to go and lying third; t’were London next to play,
A goodly side but not on form. They hadn’t jelled all day.
But the big mouthed coach behind em; got our girls in a state,
And by the time he shut his gob: they’d lost. It were too late.
By now it was too close to call, an’ wi’ Yorkshire rising fast,
Staffordshire were looking mean. (Big Bren was playing last.)
The blond threw first, a powerful lass, she left the seven nine,
Our Barbara she made no mistake, her ball it struck just fine.
Then Lucia spared and Carol too, Big Mo made no mistake,
Big Bren had three splits in a row. She said "F….or goodness sake"
By fifth frame they were forty down, but our girls needed more.
We had to win by a hundred pins t’get silver on the door.
Wi’ t’last ball bowled; they looked at t’score. By seventy pins they’d won.
So now they’ve got to wait to see how well ‘ave Yorkshire done?
It’s on the wall, they’ve done it. The Bronze is in the bag
So Lucia wiped a tearful eye and Sheila lit a fag.
They quietly went their homeward ways, this gutsy little team,
There was no triumphal shouting. No need to let off steam
They know that in this century; it’s the second gong for them.
It gives them satisfaction; to know they beat-