ROBIN HOOD AND THE
BOGEY-ROLLING CONTEST
by
Bernard Wrigley
Billy Bennett
In days of old when men were men, 
And all the sheep were nervous. 
There lived a bloke us poor folk liked 
'Cause he robbed the rich to serve us. 

He lived in the woods with a bunch of lads. 
He called his merry men. 
He called them that 'cause they drank so much ale. 
They got pissed eleven nights out of ten. 

There was Little John, who was not so small. 
In fact he was quite tall. 
If he had been small he'd have been called Big John. 
Which makes no sense at all. 

The fattest bloke in all the band. 
Was Tuck, the local friar. 
He kept his chip pan under his tunic. 
And two or three lads from the choir. 

Their minstrel they called Alan-a-Dale. 
They found him up at the friary. 
His mother kept record of the outlaws' deeds. 
In a book she called Mrs. a-Dales diary. 

Will Scarlet was one for the ladies. 
It was short for Willie" it's true.
For he'd used it so much it went all red and pink. 
And his eyesight weren't up to much, too. 

There was also Much, the miller's son. 
Who always carried things on too far. 
You could tell what it was he'd indulged himself in. 
By the stains down the front of his bra. 

The Sheriff of Nottingham lived close by. 
And to him Robin was not partial. 
It was rumoured he couldn't stop picking his nose. 
So the King never made him a marshal. 

One day, the Sheriff sat in his chambers. 
Musing on this and that. 
He'd picked his nose so heavily. 
He was through to the lining of his hat. 

He'd just got news of a robbery. 
On the day of his birthday, it seems. 
The outlaws had ambushed the guests to his party. 
And eaten all the Sheriff's ice cream. 

"Oh, hang those swine." The Sheriff cried. 
"If only somebody would." 
Then he flicked a bogey at a passing fly. 
Which cured its headache for good.

He swore. "For I'll trap the bold Robin Hood. 
At a snot rolling contest, methinks." 
But he didn't know Robin could roll Ten Ton Specials. 
And was a black belt at tiddleywinks. 

When Robin got wind of the challenge. 
He thought. "Now there's trickery afoot." 
So he went down to the Co-Op to get ammunition. 
And came back with a bag full of soot. 

When they got off the bus at the castle. 
They realized they were in for a do. 
'Cause the Sheriff had filled his nose up with sawdust. 
And a tin full of Araldite too. 

He picked out a corker for starters. 
And gave Robin one in the neck. 
The weight of it made him stagger about. 
And laid him clean out on the deck. 

Then followed a barrage of bogeys. 
The Sheriff sure knew how to shoot. 
Robin knew he had but one chance left. 
So he reached for his bag full of soot. 

He put his head in and breathed very deep. 
Then rolled a Ten Tonner for luck.
He shaped it to be the first delta wing crow. 
So the Sheriff had no time to duck. 

The villain was floored, his plan had gone wrong. 
For it seemed now that Robin might win. 
So he picked as he never had picked before. 
But it was too much, and his head all caved in. 

Well, the outlaws hoisted Robin on their shoulders. 
They were so proud that he'd won the bet. 
And they stayed that way for the next fourteen days. 
'Cause the Araldite had started to set. 

They all went for a Chinese take-away. 
But they couldn't fit in, for a start. 
So they had to make do with the usual stew. 
While the friar tried to prise them apart. 

So there ends the story of brave Robin Hood. 
And of how he became England's best shot. 
There are some who still think his skill was with arrows. 
But, as I've told you - It's not. 
The end