TVH THE (SPLENDID) WORDS

TVH3 #2132, 8th June 2026.

Cockhaven Arms, Bishopsteignton.

Hare: Roger the Dodger.

 

Who was there:

Roger the Dodger with visitor, Myrthe, from the Netherlands; Well Hopped and James, her brother; Big End; Piltdown Man; Georgie P'Orgy and granddaughter Monica; Melon Picker; Bee Flicker; Zen Emptiness; Ernie; Fukarwe; Pollyfella and Lisa (pub only); Man Pig; Wet Fart; Coldtits; Swinger and son Devin; Warm Front; Psycho and Beefy.

 

Apologies: what follows was written as a four-line verse. It changed itself and I cannot edit back.

 

'Twas the dry afternoon of the eight day of June,

The morning had been so much wetter.

The Hare had gone out and, without any doubt

Conditions had ended up better. 

 

Hashers arrived through roadworks contrived

To stymie our favourite pastime.

Nice chats in the sun, we waited to run

More clement than the Circle was last time.

 

The Hare brought a guest, we all can attest

At Hashing she's a total beginner.

A pertinent fact: her country is flat,

Our terrain is likely agin her!

 

And as is the norm, the Circle did form

(To some people, annoyingly late).

There we two on their bike so, whether you like

It or not, it is rude not to wait.

 

With the GM unseen, it'll usually mean

Piltdown Man puts on the mantle.

The same every week, it's hands up to speak

A sack full or, merely a scantle. 

 

So, from SMEllie's list, two dates have been missed:

So far off it's not worth a mention.

I suppose I should say- in August, okay?

At least now she's got your attention.

 

The Hare took the stage, the Hash to engage,

There's a Long and a Short and a Walk.

A stop you will find (if you see the sign).

It's all laid in flour and blue chalk.

 

Out left on the Trail, the hill made some quail,

We'd gone no real distance at all

When Psycho sat down on a bench near the round

Until she heard Warm Front's "On" call. 

 

On into the sticks and, what a great fix

For the blues that the working days bring.

Greens of all hues and fantastic views

See hovering Larks as they sing.

 

Capillary lanes had turned into veins

And arteries for many drivers.

We all had to share the little to spare

With departers as well as arrivers.

 

The Trail ran us down to the main road from town,

A right turn took us all away.

With no-one behind, we pressed on to find

Big End to show us the way.

 

Changing the scene, we ran up the Teign

On seaweed and pebbles and rocks.

The shoreline was wet but, I managed to get

A handful of sand in my socks.

 

Psycho had found herself off the ground,

She scaled the wall with such ease.

She hadn't made time to go for a climb.

Her hobby? It's more like a disease!

 

So Dodger's S/S, in a field, 

more or less the same place it had been before.

Of treats there were many and worth every penny

As we hadn't been charged at the door!

 

The greeter was there with his strange happy stare

Our good friend who's Gnorman the Gnome.

Man Pig was late, and in a right state,

Having first found the On Home!

 

Quitting the Stop with the temperature drop

And the shadows beginning to fall,

Those who were left, were not bereft

As Dodger urged "Please, eat it all!"

 

After all that and, feeling quite fat,

We rolled our way back to the Inn

To get tidied up and something to sup.

So then the Down-downs begin.

 

The Down-downs:

Did they go to the Ball? We won't know, at all but

Lisa has Prince Pollyfella.

I know it's a crime but, we'll use up that rhyme for

Lisa is his Cinderella!

 

"This heart of mine, will be one, with thine." Quoth he

On his other knee bended.

(Put feelings like these in parentheses)

So, now they're each other's "intended".

 

Navigation appalling or, beer was a-calling?

Man Pig had gone the wrong way.

To the wrong football ground but, the S/S was found.

By then it was late in the day!

 

Follow the Trail? The idea went stale

So Warm Front suggested a turn.

Increasing the distance had met no resistance:

From their folly they really must learn!

 

To pick on this beauty was Man Pig's sad duty,

She gave him a look full of scorn.

Being "posh" was the charge,

Which is why, by and large,

She looks "To the manor born."

 

The Hare at his best, his work was expressed

In the Trail and the Sweetie Stop cited.

High on the scale, we'll all have a tale,

In this I am sure we're united.

 

On on, Beefy.

 

P.S.

Elegant diction or terrible fiction?

Don't worry, you won't hurt my feelings.

Too high ambition for "Words" proposition,

I ought to stay clear of these dealings!