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Friendly Society St George's Supper

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St GEORGE'S SUPPER, Saturday 20th April 2002Musicians.jpg (22581 bytes)
On Saturday 20th April, the back bar of the Westbury Inn was decorated with flags and bunting, and  packed with revellers to celebrate Englandís patron saint. An excellent four-course meal, featuring roast beef and Yorkshire pudding and other English delicacies, was punctuated by the piano virtuosity of Joe Atkinson. At the end of the meal, he accompanied community singing, ably conducted by Malcolm Mogford, in a repertoire of English music, ranging from blatantly patriotic and traditional through music hall to the Beatles. 

The Friendly Society would like to thank Philippa, Karen and all the staff at the Westbury Inn for their hard work in helping to make this such a successful and enjoyable village occasion. Thanks also to all those who donated prizes for the raffle.

.. and Shakespearian Poetry Competition
Shakespeareís birthday was marked with a poetry competition, in which contestants were invited to complete limericks. The large number of high quality entries exposed hidden depths of creativity within the village. The winner by a short syllable was Geoff Civil, whose subtle commentary on the French reinvoked the spirit of Agincourt. Unfortunately he managed to lose his script by the end of the evening, so we are unable to include it here. A selection of the other entries is reproduced below.

A bard from Stratford called Will
Never had enough strength in his quill.
He asked for Viagra,
But never could find her.
Forsooth Will, it's only a pill.

Upon the road to Priddy Fair,
I met a maid with golden hair.
We argued all night
As to who had the right
To do what with whom and where.

The great English game of cricket
Evolved quite by chance near a thicket.
When a harvester boss
Threw his mate a full toss,
And the bit in between was the wicket.

There once was an English rose,
Who in the nude used to pose.
Some thought it bold,
As she was rather old.
But she did have a very nice nose.

A bard from Stratford called WIll
Luckily fell in a still.
He said with a shout
To a passing lout:
"For God's sake don't send me the bill."

A bard from Stratford called Will
Thought his girlfriend was on the pill.
When told in the pub
"Your girl's in the club",
He ran away with a woman called Jill.

My dream on a midsummer night
Gave Titania a bit of a fright.
It looked awfully large,
Akin to a barge,
But t'was all a trick of the light.

My dream on a midsummer night
When the moon casts its luminous light
Is to walk with my love
while the stars shine above
And the future looks perfect and bright.

A bard from Stratford called Will
Had a most magnificent quill.
Whenhe flourished his plume,
He lit Romeo's gloom
And gave Juilet such a thrill.

A bard from Stratford called Will
Drank some whiskey that made him quite ill.
Those three Scottish witches
Made him sick to the breeches.
Now he drinks Gin from a good English still.

When Henry fought at Agincourt,
He found himself ten archers short.
"I must have the barrows
With plenty of arrows,
Or this battle will all come to nought."

There once was an English rose
With a large and roseate nose.
But it wasn't much fun
When the cold made it run,
And the drips that fell from it they froze.

 

  


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