Rob "Swimming" Lines

 

- a seriously comic poet whose home grown brand of northern English humour infiltrates your funny bones and leaves you with the odd urge to pull on a swimming hat and grab a 'butty' !

THE MASTERS SWIMMER

This chap at work the other day
the centre of attraction.
I wandered over, casual like, and said
"what's all the action".

He'd got this medal, gold it was,
I eyed it with suspicion,
He said "I won it fair and square
in a swimming competition".

"I represented Kenilworth
I think I'm at my peak,
They'll call me up for England next",
He said with tongue in cheek.

I'm young and fit, can swim a bit
but gold, how can it be,
Old Harry's near retirement age,
(I think he's 63).

On wednesday next old Harry said
"come down and join the club,
we swim a bit then afterwards
some finish at the pub".

At 10 to 8 I met him there,
I turned up with my kit,
I'd got it in a tesco bag
I knew I'd be a hit.

So there I am bermuda shorts,
I felt a proper turn
until the coach said in my ear,
"don't worry mate, you'll learn".

Well, backstroke first, I knew that stroke
I'd seen it on the telly,
we'd only done a dozen strokes
my legs had turned to jelly.

It's 5 to 9, I'm tired out
my stomach's feeling queasy,
I'm watching Harry two lanes up,
he makes it look so easy.

Still 5 to 9, the hard work done
I know now I won't die
until the coach say's "right you lot,
you're going ten lengths FLY !!"

 

Catharsis

The feeling that comes at the end of the day
when you're choked with emotion and nothing to say.
When your senses are screaming, but never out loud.
When you look in the mirror and see just a shroud.
When you're struggling home at the end of your shift
and you must use the stairs, someone's broken the lift.
When your body is aching, but you don't feel the pain.
You've forgotten your brolly and it's starting to rain.
When your mind and your body are down and depressed
and your ego is falling or even distressed.
When you want to go swimming to practice your stroke,
but you've spent all your money and the cash point has broke.
Then you think of the free pass you got from a mate,
so you rush to the car you don't want to be late.
Then you get to the club, and you're starting to swim,
when you finish the warm up you're beginning to grin,
' til you get to the hard bit still, you think you can win.
Then your shoulders start burning but the pain is a pleasure
and the feeling you get then is worth more than treasure.
Then you know that you're going to finish the swim
so you don't say a prayer but you whistle a hymn.
Then you walk to the car and you chat to your mate,
and the feeling you get then is simply, just great.
So the hurt and the pain and the grief and the sorrow
has all gone for today, but, will come back tomorrow.

 

QUESTION.

If I want to swim like a lane one swimmer,
If my shoulders were wider and my waist was slimmer,
If my legs kicked faster and were that much longer,
and my arms pulled harder and they felt much stronger,
If I could get up early in the pouring rain
and then plough up and down and ignore the pain.
If I could eat the right food and not give in to hunger
and my mind was keener and my body was younger.
If I could enter a race and become the winner
Well, then I could swim like a lane one swimmer. --
-- But would it be fun?

 

Matt

Goodbye, so long, I’m leaving,
I’m off, I’m on my way,
I’ll say goodbye to CBF
In search of higher pay.

I hope to make it big at JASK
And with the pay it get’s me
I’m gonna buy a plasma screen,
That’s if the missus lets me

Design’s my passion, It’s the job
I’ve done since leaving school
the inspiration drawn from life,
An apple Mac my tool

But when the work becomes too much
And life becomes a killer
I Can always earn a crust or two
Selling programmes down the Villa.

The skills I’ve learned at CBF
I’m sure they Won’t forsake me
Just watch me now, You’ll see how far
These great big legs will take me.

But if I cock it up at JASK
or things become too weird
I’ll hide behind a great disguise
and grow a ginger beard.

I’ll miss the folk at CBF
like Alex, Luke and Mike
They’ll see me off on leaving day
By shouting “on yer bike”.

 

I'M CHUFFIN' OFF.

I've packed up all me worldly goods,
me Davey lamp, canary,
two tea bags and a bit of milk
I picked up from the dairy.

I'm chuffin' off to pastures new,
me guitar for to play.
I aim to live at Durlston Head,
Just west of Swanage Bay.

But, first of all, I'll need some cash.
To get the going rate
I'll put me cap on Woolies step,
they'll think I'm Skippy's mate.

I'll be a busker, telling tales,
become a great jongleur.
Become an artist, sketching things
that look like Yogi Bear.

And if the folk don't like me act?
To hell with boos and hisses,
I'll get meself a part time job,
working for the missus.

I'll miss me mates at pit face though,
there's Billy, Ken and Lew.
Just like they've missed me
all these years.
They still say, Who are you?

 

THE SESSION

It's Friday night, it's 9 o'clock,
it's here again, 'The Session.'
The coach say's "right, before we start
I'm looking for aggression."

We start the warm up nice and slow
to put us in the mood.
600 choice, 200 free,
I wish I'd had less food.

The coach say's "right, the theme tonight
is competition swimming
but just to spice it up we'll have
the men against the women."

The night wears on, the womens team
have not won any races,
the macho men have won them all
that smug look on their faces.

The session ends at 10 o'clock
and then you hear this voice,
he's speaking with a northern twang,
I think his name is Joyce.

He say's he wants another race,
a final ' twenty five.'
He say's he's like an animal
he'll eat them all alive.

The starter say's "it's one to one
I'll go and get the gun."
It's got the shorter barrel on,
(I think it's just for fun).

" I'll try and get a flyer here."
He say's it with a wink.
" I'll go off on the ' B ' in bang
and that'll make them think."

They mount the blocks and then it's BANG
and down the length they go.
It's neck and neck, they're fighting hard,
the tension starts to show.

The race is run, he's tried his best
you see it in his eyes.
" I beat you fair and square this time."
The other person cries.

"I'm sorry lads, I've let you down
I know my place in life,
It wasn't Sharron Davies there,
I was beaten by my WIFE ! "

 

THE GOLDEN EVENT

It's Will the crawler's birthday,
( he's just passed forty nine ),
" I want to celebrate " he said,
" and not just toe the line ".

" I'm fifty now, my golden year,
I want a bit of fun ".
He thought of the Triathalon,
that's swim, then ride, then run.

" I'll need a bit of practice first,
the swim and run are easy,
but going all that way by bike,
it makes you feel quite queasy".

He got himself a mountain bike
to go out for a ride.
He thought I'll take the lad along,
( well, someone had to guide ).

They took the mountain path to hell,
it took them half the day,
they took the stabilisers off
to ease the pain away.

The great day dawned, he felt quite sick,
but full of hope and pleasure,
his swimming wouldn't let him down,
he knew he'd got their measure.

The swimming, great, he finished quick
and ran out for his bike.
He'd polished it the night before,
it sparkled in the light.

The training books had been quite clear,
you swim in what you run.
His tracksuit was still soaking wet,
his trainers weighed a ton.

He checked his bags, ( his panniers ),
he found his cycle clips,
he checked his thermos,( nice and warm )
and then did up the zips.

The first half - hour he rode alone
and then he heard a sound.
A group so fast, in Boardman hats,
they almost spun him round.

The riding done, it's off your bike
and then you're meant to run.
He thought, why am I doing this ?
oh yes, I wanted fun !

Still, one leg forward, then the next,
"this whole things getting harder ".
It's not what you'd call Linford style,
It's more like Douglas Bader !

His face so wet with all that sweat,
he looked like he'd been lacquered.
They said " well done, you've finished Will ".
He said " I'm bloody knakered !".

So, when you're getting on in life,
your pension coming nearer,
you start to take things serious
your thinking gets much clearer.

you give up drink, you give up sex,
you even give up smoking
and then you think Triathalon ?
you must be bloody joking !!!

 

Mid-Life crisis

Please God send me a lifeboat
to this ocean of despair,
I've fallen in the water
and no-one seems to care

I feel my life is over,
I'm old, I've had my time
in fact I'm only 40,
that's just past 39.

A group of fish came by me,
scholastic was their mode
I asked them if they'd save me
or help me bear my load.

The leader was a dolphin,
a throw-back to the ark,
a wolf in dolphins clothing
the dolphin was a shark.

so pass me down a lifeline,
or send me down a rope,
some-thing to keep me buoyant
some-thing to give me hope.

please god send me a lifeboat,
to this ocean of despair,
before I lose my marbles,
before I lose my hair.

 

Anthem
(The catalyst)

Do you know why the British team rarely win gold ?
It's because of their stiff upper lip.
As the anthem begins and the standard unfurls
then they know their demeanour will slip.

They have tried, one or two, to disguise it of course,
they will hum, try to look nonchalant.
But the minute the first note strikes up from the band
then they soon realise that they can't.

When you think of the winners we've had in the past,
well, it isn't the race comes to mind,
except maybe the end when they've just edged ahead
and they've come from a long way behind.

No, you think of the way they performed on the stand
as they waited for 'God save the Queen',
with the hairs on the back of their neck standing up
and the world zooming in multiscreen

Can't you see David Wilkie, his quivering lip,
and the Searles with the cox Gary Herbert,
do you picture their win, or remember their tears,
pouring out like a storm flooded culvert.

It's the Anthem you see that holds everyone back,
they break down on that very first note,
but they feel that its not how the British should act
so the chance of a gold is remote.

For we'd rather lose out to the rest of the world
than to soften our stiff upper lip.
If it means getting silver or even a bronze,
we can answer the press with a quip.

So don't alter the words or the tune or the verse
just the 'drum roll ' right at the beginning,
then you won't see the Brits coming second or third.
but their rightful place, out in front, winning.

 

ZIM
(The swimming coach)

They call him the smiling assassin
as he's sealing their fate with a grin.
He's got shoulders as wide as the ocean
and a waist that's incredibly thin.

Yes, he looks like a great Roman hero,
( have you noticed the sandals he wears ),
all he needs is a toga and dagger
and some laurel to wear in his hair.

The pool is his great amphitheatre
and we are all Christians to him,
So he prowls round the edge like a lion
and you know you're not going to win.

Then his words come to hand like a dagger,
"six two hundreds we'll do for a start".
It's delivered with skill and precision,
like a knife sliding into your heart.

So like Nero dispatching his forces
he sends us all off in our lane
then he stands and he fiddles while ' we ' burn
you can see he's enjoying our pain.

Then he follows this up with a program
that is set not to kill but to maim
as we crawl from the pool bent and broken
you can tell he's enjoying the game

So he came and he saw and he conquered
you can bet he's been having some fun
we say "thanks, that was surely the best, Zim".
he just smiles and say's quietly, "well done".

 

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