More Prose

The paddlers were bored

At home all alone

Not to be ignored

They turned to the phone 😃

There was a paddler called Mike 

Who did the white water psych 

His funny little riddle 

Made people piddle 

Oh what a frustrated tyke

There was paddler called Phil, 

Who took the white water pill, 

He stayed at home,

or descended rivers alone, 

Just to avoid the viral ill.

There was a paddler called Pete 

Whose action in stoppers was neat 

Not intentionally playing 

No choice but staying 

And welcomed on bank by a sheep🐏

There was an old man in a Waka 

Who never touched drink or tobacco 

Now his friends have all gone 

Self islolation is done 

No kayaking, no fun, no excuse for a coffee and scone

There was a paddler called Pete 

Who wanted a white water meet 

But he leant on a boulder 

Thus popping his shoulder 

So now he just video’s his leat.

 

There was a paddler called Brian 

The estuaries of Cumbria was tryin’ 

But the weather was ruff 

So he called them all off 

Which left all the kayakers crying’ 

There once was a paddling clown, 

Who would wear only his dressing gown, 

He got caught in a stopper, 

Where he came a cropper… 

And completed the trip upside down.

White Water’s the thing we all chose

But Boris our activities froze

Now it’s all pen and paper

The rivers come later

We’re consigned to writing of prose

There was a young man called Dave 

Who on white water was brave 

But he went into an eddy 

Where he wasn’t so steady, 

We talked of his swim for days

There was a paddler called Pam 

Whose limericks never would scan 

When her friends told her so 

She replied Yes I know 

But I always try to get to as many rivers in one day as I possibly can 

(Adaptation)

Be it river, the sea or a lake

To go in a boat’s a mistake

To help the Health Service

Then stay safe in the ‘toon’

But enjoy the wild trip to Loch Doon.

There was an old man called Hayward, 

Who’s housework was said to be wayward, 

At the chance it a river, 

He would always consider, 

A 10,000 mile round trip as favoured.

There was a mad kayaker called John, 

Whose family never knew where he’d gone, 

One day in despair, 

They moved house to somewhere, 

But didn’t tell him the destination. 

Grade one only a little fun 

Grade two a better view 

Grade three, full of glee 

Grade four tests me more 

Grade five makes me feel alive 

Grade six doesn’t.

The Clough and the Rawthey are low 

Even the Crake wouldn’t go 

I’m bored of the Mint 

I’d swim on the Sprint 

Perhaps I should stick with Ludo?

There was an alarm 

As Pete hurt his arm 

he shouted in pain 

Then turned off the rain 

To prevent similar harm

Local folklore

Tells of a bore

On the Kent and the leven

It reaches right up to heaven!

Well I’ve never seen it……

tiny🤨

The story begins 18 months ago 

My first kayak, what did I know 

Learning to roll, alone on the lake 

Watching videos, oh what would it take 

Three weeks of trying 

I could of been crying 

And then in a moment, success 

I couldn’t believe, what a test 

Again and again to the left to the right 

Eventually stopping late into the night 

Then a chance encounter on the Leven 

Joining a club could be heaven 

Trying to learn, honing my skill 

Lakeland CC what can I say, your brill !

The poet Laureate a come to LCC

Lament of  a Vengeful Paddler

T’was from Pete’s sick bed

On the Whats App thread

That day to day his envy was fed

He saw his mates fun

But he couldn’t join in

And jealousy went to his head

Paddler Pete who’d leant on a boulder

And in the process f***d up his shoulder

Was full of resent about his descent

Determined revenge would be much colder

He had Weapons in his quivers

And Plans that invoked shivers

He summoned the sprits and evil gods

And achieved mighty things against all odds

He went and emptied all the rivers

The Crake, Rothay, Rawthey, the mint

Esk, Lune, Clough and the Sprint

Indeed it was an admirable tote

Nowhere left to float a boat

The Leven and Eden gave a good fight

But Pete knew in the end it would be alright

The spirits and demons would be strong

For these rivers to drain wouldn’t take long

The Derwent, and play weirs further afield

Took quite a long time for emptying to yield

Border Esk, Nith Teviot and Ouse

Pete asked the devil to turn the screws

But some of these rivers wouldn’t relent

Teme, Cryfe, Kelvin, Ness and Trent

But he realised… as things would unravel

That beyond the Clough DH wouldn’t travel

Alas Dave is wise, I know how he feels

Why go to the Trent just to catch Weil’s

Or drive to Scotland, would you be willing

To go to the pub to suffer 80 Shilling

Pete’s powers won’t hold…they’ll break quite soon

The gods will give rain and fill the Lune

If timing is right when the waters they send

The gods will also, Pete’s shoulder mend

But one final trick right up his sleeve

It really is hard to conceive

A horrid revenge really quite epic

He went and started that bloody pandemic

Just to prevent his mates having fun

When with multiple injuries he was over-run

But his heinous plan could seriously backfire

And leave us all in a horrible mire

Whilst Pete’s shoulder could be better in weeks

Really not long to cruising the creeks

It’s dawned on him – now his worst fears

COVID isolation could be here for years..