A SELECTORS PRAYER
Blessed are they who can play sport
Blessed are they who can still be taught
Blessed are they who accept with grace
To play in any selected place.
 

Advice
" If your Skip wants an opinion, He'll give it to you".
 
NOBODY'S DARLING

Up and down, walking walking,
Often measuring, sometimes chalking;
Shifting mats - keeping score,
thirty ends, maybe more;
Aching back - tired of limb,
Cheers for others, none for him,
Night draws on, darker, darker,
No one cares for he's the marker!

What do you do with someone who can't draw, can't roll the jack, can't set the mat, can't keep score and won't listen

Make them skip.

The “Hopie” Bowling Club

It micht be just a “but an’ ben”

Oor clubhoose is nae sae braw

But whit it lacks in luxury

In freenship it beats them a’

We’ve got quite a lot o’ members

A mixed lot, some may add

Wi’ experience on the one side

Though oor learners are nae sae bad!

We a’ git on weel the gither

O’ that there is nae doot

Nae mony fechts or squabbles

We jist pit the offenders oot!

Ye can be sure o’ guid cuppie

And oor price is really fair

Fir we’ve got oor regular clientel

That aye come back fir mair

Oor ladies are a dab hand

Bakin’ shorties an’ fairy cakes

They slave awa oo’r hot ovens

Jist fir oor members sakes

They run an annual coffee mornin’

An mony a raffle dae they sell

Fund raisin’ is their forte

An’ it maks the coffers swell

Hiv ye seen oor zimmers?

They’re the envy o’ a’ the toon!

Nae mair corns an callouses fir us

Kickin’ bools back up an doon!

Oor ladies handle them sae deftly

On the green they work a treat

They’re sae awfie licht an manageable

Sic a blessin’ fir oor feet

Mind ye, oor men are nae sae expert

Pushin the zimmers up an’ doon

But then, they nivver had tae

Push prams a’ roon’ the toon

We hiv quite a lot o’ competitions

An’ we a’ like tae tak part

Ye should see us in oor greys an’ whites

We a’ look sae really smart

There’s nithin’ like a game o’ bools

Tae keep ye young at heart an’ fit

An’ if sometimes we canna “get them up”

We dinna really mind a bit!

That’s when ye hear yer partner shout

Yer bool’s far ower “ticht”

An’ there’s you  usin’ a’ yer muscles

An’ tryin’ wi’ a’ yer micht

But it’s really a braw feelin’

When yer bool jist tak’s the jack

An’ ye get an’ “exy owy” on it

We a wee bit score o’ chalk

Some days ye get quite frustrated

When ye canna “catch the grass”

But at least yer in there tryin’

An’ no sittin’ on yer a*** (bum?)

It’s sad at the end o’ the season

When oor bools we store away

We thole the lang lang winter

Jist waitin’ fir the openin’ day

Then we a’ gither at the clubhouse

Greet oor auld friends, jist the same

Git oot the bools, the mats an jacks

Tae play oor favourite game

 Hopie Poem  ( from Olive Leven)