An ode to ‘Super Willie’

by Gordon Willcox...

For all of you who get the shakes, and tremble at the knee,
And need the loo not once but twice, for more than just a pee.

Then, you will know how Willie feels, when faced with lookers on,
Who think the game is easy, and laugh when you’ve gone wrong.

William Jack, Willie to his friends, only started bowls this year,
His favourite time is roll-up nights, with chips and a pint of beer.

For on these nights in village hall, he plays without a care,
He gets his woods right on the jack, and mistakes are very rare.

His mates, think he is wonderful, his nicknames “Super Willie”,
And play him on a roll-up night, you’ll end up looking silly.

With scruffy jeans and builders bum, and a New York baseball cap,
Give him a friendly game of bowls, and Will’s a happy chap.

But now our story takes a turn, Will’s aim, it simply ceases,
Cos’ turn him out in match-day clothes, and his game just goes to pieces.

A Warborough match the other night, was not for faint at heart,
To win the knock-out cup this year, meant all must play their part.

Picked at skip ‘gainst mighty Dave, Bill had to hold his nerve,
But all his woods found block and edge, he couldn’t get the swerve.

Now when you’re down and in the dumps, advice it comes aplenty,
“Not like that”, they criticise, but then turn complimentary.

And so, he tried a range of things, to cure his knocking knees,
And to rid him of the butterflies, that on big stage, makes him freeze.

A rabbit’s foot down underpants, a spoon inside his shoe,
Despite the many remedies, he still required the loo!

A kindly chap from Benson said, “you’ll have to try my potion”,
It made Will sick for days and days, having drank this rub-in lotion.

“Herbal tea will do the trick”, said Aston lass with grin,
“Boil it up and stir it round, then add a slug of gin”.

A friend then took young Will aside, “you look as though you’re flailing”,
“Go see a sports psychologist, who understands what’s ailing”.

“He’ll lay you down, relax your brain, it’s a calming little treat”,
“A local man I have in mind, no need for Harley Street”.

“I guarantee he’ll put you right, and come up with the goods”,
“His business card I have right here, his name is Chalky Woods.”

Now Chalky is a wise old man, you’ve heard ‘bout him before,
He strapped poor Will onto the couch, and bolted up the door.

Now Willie told of his trips to loo, and bruises on his knee
“Go on, go on” old Chalky said, this consultation’s free.


“I’ve thought about your trip to Looe, and I see you’re quite afrighten”
“Have you ever thought ‘bout a change of scene, perhaps you might try Brighton?”

After hours and hours of endless chat, Chalky shouted “BLIMY! CRICKY”!
“I know the way to sort you out, now I’ve got into your psyche”.

Then from the corner of the room, a six-foot pole did come.
Willie almost jumped a mile, thinking this was for his bum.

“Some fresh air ‘swhat we need in here”, Said Chalky with a smile.
“I only use that great long stick, for sorting out my pile”

“I know the answer clear and plain, no need for further talk”.
“An insertion’s what will sort you out, I’ll shape a simple cork”.

“To stick it up my bum” Will cried, imagining with fear,
“No, you silly Willie lad”, it’s for putting in your ear.

A tailored shape to dull the sound, held in with Evo-Stick,
To block out Willie’s nasty thoughts, would surely do the trick.

And so, a match day did arrive, when our lad would be found in loo,
But not so today as together with woods, Will had his corks and his glue.

Our story now has reached its end, William Jack has now found his nerve,
At rowdy Wootton hall last night, Super Willie found the right curve!