The poetry below was composed and recited by Tex “Banjo” Marshall to the Cremorne Premier Division team prior to their round 8 game against Dover at Dover, December, 2023.
It’s OVER for Dover!
There was movement down in Dover, and the word was heard in town,
That the boys from Old Cremorne were here to play.
We’ve come down South for Bowl’n, and the wins they’ll keep a roll’n,
On the bottom, we don’t really want to stay.
The message from us to Dover, is that, “Dover, it’s just over”
And if you slip today, we’ll make you pay!
It’s up to us you know, we’ll give a red hot go,
We’ll try our guts out every night and day!
It’s really a “no Brainer”, that their hopeless without Schrainer
And “we” don’t need a “ring in” just to win.
Cause Brad is just on fire, and his rink will never tire,
Though we know his arse is really made of Tin!
Every day he gives his thanks. He’s got assets in the Banks.
With Riley standing tall and Bald and proud,
Then Teresa drawing hot, strewth, she’s got the Shot!
And Phil, although a gun, can be too loud!
You may think Pat is old, but his bowling, it’s so bold!
Hearing stories of this legend far and wide.
He might be an old prick, but he judges a good wick,
So you’d really want to have him in your side.
Forget about Pat Cummings, Pat’s got Lethal Munnings.
An Open singles championship he did take!
Don’t underestimate the Wally, to do so is a folly
And with Hoddy too this rink will take the cake.
Tex’s shoulders “oh so sore”, wishing he was paid much more,
Week in, week out, his Rink upon his back.
From far and wide they tell, that he even wears a shell,
And every now and then he bares his crack!
He doesn’t use his turd, cause he’s got Ralphie as his Third,
A man so calm and graceful on the grass.
Front enders Geoff and Dave, such memories to save,
We can pull a bloody Rink win out our arse!
To round out the Team, we present them with Ash.
From a family with really weird habits.
Bigger, bolder and stronger than a ton of bricks.
But a family that just breeds like Rabbits!
Gary plays three and is filled with glee,
Watching Grandson and superstar Mitch,
And Stevie gives absolute hell with his bowls,
What a wonderful “son of a bitch”!
This wasn’t written for a drover, it’s because we’re playing Dover
And your Bowls today will draw right to the Head.
For the perfect grass they take, and “good weight” for heaven’s sake,
Those Dover boys will watch them full of dread!
At the setting of the sun, when we’re finished having fun
And many beers have gone into the nigh,
Think of your bowling brothers, forget about the others
And keep your chins and heads up really high.
The poetry below was composed and recited by Tex “Banjo” Marshall to the Cremorne Premier Division team prior to their round 8 game against Dover at Dover, December, 2021.
There was movement at the Bowlo, for the word was passed around,
That the Tex from Melbourne Town had got away.
He’d gone down South for Bowl’n, and the wins they kept a roll’n
For he’d found a Club where he did want to stay.
Choosing Clubs, he had been torn, but he settled on Cremorne
Even though the Bastards wouldn’t cough up money
The Beer it wasn’t cheap but there were trophies there to reap
His delivery is like watching sweet warm honey
People said it was a folly, when his number one was Wally
A handsome sort a chap with rounded manner
He could bowl and he could screw, not a thing he couldn’t do
And was very very handy with a spanner.
Not a Tom nor Dick nor Harry, Texan found himself with Garry
Who could bowl all right but wasn’t quite a feather,
Then he lost a lot of weight, he could now get in the gate
With his modest, gentle, quiet and dainty Heather.
Even though he was the chief, his rink, it needed Beef!
So he found a man who’s big blue bowls would quiver.
As they draw right to the head, his opponents, shake their head,
Seeing Stevie doing damage to his liver.
They rose to Premier Division, it was like a circumcision
Playing Maughan’s and Booths and Monks and even Cruisers,
Sometimes beaten when away, at home they’d “make’um pay”,
Cause those other teams, are just a bunch of losers.
His Bowls aren’t bloody Pink and he’s not the only rink,
He bowls alongside Brad, and Ralph and Munno,
Don and Oatsy on the pill, and then comes Bloody Phil
For the flustered opposition, not much funno!
Patrick, Brendan, Hodds and Doyle, with their bowls all day do toil
Sending other teams right back into their grotto
With Langer still to come , rival players looking numb
At perfection on display by Davie Watto
This wasn’t written for a drover, it’s because we’re playing Dover
And your Bowls today will speak a thousand words.
For the perfect grass they take, and “good weight” for heavens sake,
We’ll send off these country bumpkin turds
At the setting of the sun, when we’re finished having fun
And many beers have gone into the nigh,
Think of your bowling brothers, forget about the others
And keep your chins and heads up really high.
If you’re feel’n pretty dreadful, and you’re bowls are not that great
