The McRobertson Shield is taking place in Florida at the moment. Does anyone know any croquet poems to go with it?
I already have the site
Post Edited (11-13-03 17:29)
Here are a couple- from a Canadian croquet site. [www.croquet.ca] />
Expedition in Play
a) Dear striker, put your balls in place
And play your stroke with speed and grace.
Anticipate which ball to play
At start of turn; Don't cause delay.
If taking bisque, then indicate
With all dispatch; Please do not wait.
It really don't solve no one's troubles,
Prolonged discussion during doubles.
b) If wiring test you wish to try,
Then do so with unaided eye.
Don't ask the ref., he'll give short shrift,
Save start of turn when claiming lift.
When games are limited in time,
Remember, please, this little rhyme.
So all our chances be the same,
Play up, play up, and play the game.
The Gentle Game
Croquet is all very well, in its way,
If you hate all the people you happen to play.
But don't be discouraged - though starting as friends,
You'll hate them like poison before the game ends.
This quarrel, this squabble, this shambles, in fact
With envy and hatred and mallets is packed:
A series of bickers and bruises, and bangs
The venom of vicars will drop from their fangs.
There's something about it that poisons the spleen;
It makes you dogmatic, malicious and mean;
It plumbs, to the depths, every possible vice;
It's callous, it's cruel - it's ever so nice.
This brand of soap has the same smell as once in the big
House he visited when he was eight: the walls of the bathroom open
To reveal a lawn where a great yellow ball rolls back through a hoop
To rest at the head of a mallet held in the hands of a child.
And these were the joys of that house: a tower with a telescope;
Two great faded globes, one of the earth, one of the stars;
A stuffed black dog in the hall; a walled garden with bees;
A rabbit warren; a rockery; a vine under glass; the sea.
To which he has now returned. The day of course is fine
And a grown-up voice cries Play! The mallet slowly swings,
Then crack, a great gong booms from the dog-dark hall and the ball
Skims forward through the hoop and then through the next and then
Through hoops where no hoops were and each dissolves in turn
And the grass has grown head-high and an angry voice cries Play!
But the ball is lost and the mallet slipped long since from the hands
Under the running tap that are not the hands of a child.
There's the Ballad of Davy Croquet too.
My goodness! I thought I was really stretching it with asking for ballet poems.
I have a family looking for live updates of the scores (and match reports) for the past fortnight. The tournament finishes this weekend.
And don't forget the croquet game in ALICE. Not a poem, but very funny!
We try very hard to forget the game in Alice, but we're not allowed to. The GB team won the trophy, by the way. Australia second, against expectations. USA beat NZ, unheard of!! If they could just get all their clubs to play to international rules, instead of the sequence game everyone else abandoned 70 years ago, they'd have a chance of winning overall (on second thoughts, don't, there aren't many sports we still do well in.)