Along the roads...
...along the footpaths
[Author recommends you read this quickly, the pain will not last as long and it might sound a little better]
Met in the Plume at seven thirty
Circle called, some get flirty
Captain talks, all listen
BOF's new shoes, in sunlight glisten
Stallion excuses, the length of the run
And this was before, it had even begun.
Out of the car park, onto the road
The other direction the walkers strode
False trail found, by Dogger and co
Back on the main street, away we go.
Through the village, at a mighty pace
A roundabout check, we know this place
A long falsie, to the bypass bridge
Sludge leading, a Tee at the fly-tipped fridge.
Back on the Hitchin road, uphill and down
Two number checks, back to the crown
Sludge having none of it, take the footpath north
At the next number check, he is unfortunately fourth.
A check with many falsies, aside Ash brook
Fooled the Captain and Sludge, they swallowed the hook
Spotted Dick and Custard, with dog in the lead
Two more numbered checks, soon make them heed.
Spotted Dick disappears, into the hedge by the brook
No chalk that way, take a good look
A double check, in the field and hedge, was mistook
By the junction of Ash, and Ippollitts brook.
A capital H, Hold the hash it be
We gathered closely under the tree
Some jump the water, RA paddled
Gorjoyce got lost, mind must be addled.
Lost for good, never seen again that day
Back to the pub, the quickest way
More checks, more bridges, Dogger way off track
Disappeared into Hitchin, a long way back.
Thongo and mates, take the short cut
Dogger rejoins, still with mutt
Around the houses, in a Hitchin suburb
Down in Purwell, nature reserve.
Fabulous old mill, passed on the right
Beware of the midges and flies, some might bite
Another check, takes the hash into a field
Chalk can't be found, Hare grudgingly yields.
Check on the corner, some head to Letchworth
Can't be right Captain F, real trail to be unearthed
Bridleway south, beside Purwell reserve
Expect to meet cutters, hash to preserve.
No walkers to be seen, Thongo map in hand
Forging ahead, across this grand land
Through Great Wymondley, and onto the pub
While the hashers are still running around in the scrub.
More check, more numbers, more mud and hills
PP and Double Entry got 'lost' in the spills
The Hash gathered, Pussy was bring up the rear
When I looked back across the field it was patently clear.
Where had they gone, nobody knows
What they got up to, they won't disclose
The trail leads onwards, to great W (double U)
The lead runners disperse, all the falsies they blew.
Instead of returning, as they should to the check
Let's run to the pub, what the heck.
Front runners were lost, Bell End takes up the reins
Helped by Sludge, and the hash that remains
Across the fields, to the chalked on inn
Lead hare still in Great Y, searching for kin.
Gives up at last, returns to the pub
Find all the lost, that's the nub
Circle called, down down drunk
New hasher John, Hash named stunk
Can't remember his nickname, call for a sleuth
Email Jakarta, get to the truth.
...past the old mill
RAs: Mutual down-downing