THE JOLLY GOOD SPORTS
We’re the parents of the children who to Pony Club are true
And we stand by the objectives and the aims set, through and through.
We’re not in it for the trophies or the glory of the win
If we miss out on a ribbon, we can take it on the chin
We’re for participation and enjoyment of our sport
And we don’t encourage members who’re competitively fraught.
We’ve learnt to call “Well Done!” and “Jolly Good!” when we come last,
To shout “Hooray!” to those that win as they go flying past.
So imagine the excited buzz, when just last Sunday week
We took our children and their mounts to a club gymkhana treat.
I had my little William on his Thelwell pony, Tom,
And the other Mums and Dads had brought their tiny tots along.
There was Sheila with her daughter Kate, a sweety-pie aged five,
And sporty Sal had brought her John upon his pony Clive
Kylie had her Georgia on a darling little horse,
As we gathered for a lead rein race - a bunch of real good sports.
“I’m nervous, Mum,” a small voice cried as we lined up at the start
“It’s just for fun,” came the reply. “What’s important’s taking part.”
So why then did this mother pop some joggers on her feet
And cast her heavy boots aside as she got ready to compete?
“On your marks” the starter cried, “Ready! Steady!......Go!”
And we took off like jack rabbits with our little ones in tow.
“Hang on!” I screamed with gusto, to a rather startled Will
For like Banjo’s Geebung Polo Club, I was in there for the kill.
As I dragged the pony down the track I caught Kylie in my eye
Running like a madman with her daughter in full cry
“Run faster, Mum………run faster! Or we won’t win the race!”
She was hell bent on the trophy; you could see it on her face.
Kate was screaming “Slow down, Mum.” Her eyes were full of fear
As she clung on to her saddle, but her plea fell on deaf ears.
John and Sal were in the lead, the joggers did the trick
They reached the water bucket first; Sal yanked John off real quick
You had to get an apple then, from a bucket full of water
And Kylie didn’t hang around, she tore her little daughter
Clean off her nag and shouted out “Quick, bite that apple, love”
Then with one clean, swift, and expert move, she gave her head a shove
And immersed her conk completely ‘til she forced the apple down
And spiked it with her pearly whites, and jolly nearly drowned.
I tried the same technique with Will, although his face turned blue
And he swallowed so much water that he looked as if he’d spew.
Bubbles rose up from the depths of young Kate’s water pail
While her mother hollered “Bite it Kate!” But all to no avail.
And John didn’t take his helmet off, so no matter how he tried
He couldn’t spear his apple – his head wouldn’t fit inside.
You should have seen his mother as she ripped it off his scone
And realised that any chance of winning this was gone.
Will looked like a suckling pig, with wide and bulging eyes
As neck and neck with Kylie, we raced to claim first prize
As we tore towards the finish flags, I gave one final burst
And pulled the pony round real fast to see who had come first
‘Twas Kylie! Damn! I turned to see why Will had made no sound
And there he was flat on his back, face up, upon the ground.
I’d spun the pony round so fast when finishing the race
That Will had been ejected as he’d gained his second place
I picked him up, removed the apple, and said “Well that was fun!”
Just jump back on your pony, and we’ll do another, son!”
He didn’t seem excited at the prospect of another
Lead rein race accompanied by a half demented mother
And neither did the other two who’d clearly had enough
Of all the frenzied action of this character building stuff
And as Georgia clutched her trophy and smiled a toothless grin
We remembered that it doesn’t matter if you lose or win
We’re for participation and enjoyment of our sport
And we don’t encourage members who’re competitively fraught!
© Victoria Brown Hill Plains, Esperance
