The Annual Games at Coakley-by-Weald
The picturesque village of Coakley-by-Weald,
Held annual games upon their sports field.
But tragedy struck at the heart of the games,
When the sole organiser went right up in flames.
Such terrible news it did sadden the nation,
As his ashes were buried, no need for cremation.
A committee then formed to plug the gap,
To run the games, to wear the cap.
Old Nobby the printer was sent to his press;
But what happened that day,
Was anyone’s guess.
His shop it collapsed, he did not print again,
And his coffin was buried in the shape of an N.
Roderick J Fender, by trade money lender,
Was given the job to produce an agenda.
But Roddy he failed for to tell the committee,
Short-sighted he was but he wanted no pity.
As Rod typed away so brave and so game,
The time for each race was all one and the same.
As for throwers and jumpers if only Rod knew,
The time he gave them, was just the same too.
Just back from France was daft Billy Vance,
Who runs very fast, but in his Dad’s pants.
First out the blocks he did fancy his chance;
Soon all that was left were his legs, in his pants.
Jack Lugg the shot-putter threw one of his best,
Poor daft Billy died,
With a shot through his chest.
Time was the essence so spades were brought in,
And daft Billy Vance was put in the bin.
Pearl Jarvis who works
For the village greengrocer,
To the finishing line she got closer and closer.
The discus then thrown
By a Scotsman called Snoddy;
Pearl Jarvis’s head was removed from her body.
As the blood was mopped up
With a towel and a flannel,
Pearl Jarvis’s head bobbed away in the Channel.
Next up was the mile,
Which delighted Mayor Dewy,
Who thought metrication
Was nothing but hooey.
Fred Nuggins rotated the hammer so fine,
And the hammer it flew to the men on the line.
Never before was seen such devastation,
For lost to the world was the cream of the nation.
Ten bodies now littered
The whole running track,
But the hammer flew on
Which delighted young Jack.
It finally landed and won him the gold;
But as for the runners all dead and quite cold.
‘But the day isn’t done’
Said a Steward called Seth,
Who then said with a smile,
‘It’s a fight to the death’.
And very soon after his words came so true,
As old Seth was now joined,
To a vaulter, from Crewe.
The javelin had gone
Right through both their guts,
Both now impaled to the men’s shower huts.
With the runners all gone
And a fair few defaulters,
It was down to the throwers and jumpers and vaulters.
Zeb Internazzo, high jumper supreme,
Cleared the bar easy but then came a scream.
Fellow high jumper, Fleur Moon Zeb did meet,
Both died in mid-air but both cleared 10 feet.
Josephine Lack she did vault up so high,
But very soon landed on young Ernie Pye.
With Ernie now skewered, just like a kebab,
Josephine Lack was laid out on a slab.
All that were left from contestants and crowd,
Were the throwers so big,
With their muscles so proud.
But a javelin thrower, a blacksmith from Hilver,
Stopped plucky Jack Lugg
Throwing hammer for silver.
The javelin it flew, so straight and so true,
It stopped at Jack Lugg
After running him through.
But Big Bob the Smithy he got his comeuppance,
His javelin throwing
Was now not worth Tuppence.
For Snoddy on discus still wanted the gold,
Did ready himself for a throw brave and bold.
As Bob also aimed right up high to the sky,
He saw little Snoddy from corner of eye.
For Snoddy he pulled up his kilt to his tum,
Which made Big Bob laugh
At the sight of his bum.
But the discus did rocket towards his big mouth,
Big Bob and the discus are still heading south.
But smugness will tell on the best of all men,
For Snoddy he threw the discus - again.
But pride in his throw was now not to be seen,
As the discus bounced back
Off the starting machine.
The last man left standing, still showing his arse
Would soon mark the end of this absolute farce.
As proud Snoddy stood there still mooning to all,
The discus came back and then Snoddy did fall.
If you drive past on a nice summer’s day,
All that is left is a plaque that does say,
‘Upon this ‘ere field a whole village did shake,
When a short-sighted man,
Made a shocking mistake.
Never before has there been so much terror,
When a short-sighted man
made a big printing error.
On that sad day, tragic souls they did yield,
At the Annual Games at Coakley-by-Weald.’
