Bega Valley Bridge Club 2018 World Champions
This poem tells the tale of a big adventure taken by the Bega Valley Bridge Club when they decided to enter the International Bridge Championships which, on that particular year, were held in Mildura, Australia.
The decision was made to enter the quest, said President Jann our leader
For we’re as good as any at bridge; including the best from Mildura.
But risks are so great, we’d be way too late stressed Rob, it’s out of the question
We’ve no funds to go, with interest rates low, not taking account of inflation
Rob don’t be a drag, said Mary real mad it’s not like we’re playing for sheep stations.
And so, they pondered the best way to travel, with options diverse and quite grand
From flying, to driving and even bi-cycling, but none could agree on a plan.
We’ve got an idea said Colin and Ken who boasted of timber a plenty
We’ll craft a team boat, and yes it will float, to sail us all down the Murray.
The next big task was selecting a cast who’d play on the day with great honour
Since none could agree on who it would be, we’ll all take a turn, said Rhonda.
They piled on board, all anxious, none bored, just itching for Jann to start sailing
But first safety drills, life boats and sick pills, oh hell said Andrew, there’s no smoking.
The big day arrived, and Bega contrived to be the best team of all nations
There were Scottish and English and girls who were Turkish, and others of mixed creations
The room was tense with much suspense, their heads felt like big bowls of porridge
Don’t worry said Paul, who’d answered their call to secret in wine with his luggage
I’ve got a hip flask, you just have to ask, it’ll help you to keep up your courage.
First hands were dealt, and Vern sorely felt, he’d only been dealt with twelve cards
Annette, chic in blue, was missing one too, said Brian “This is such a charade”!
Don’t worry said Ross, I don’t give a toss for bridge rules and regulations
We’ll make up our own with queues, codes and calls that go against all conventions.
The auction began….. the room was hushed…… the only sound being of tension They sweated and sighed would they be denied, a chance to win the first auction
Their foe stared them down with a menacing frown, serving bids with false intentions
Then Ron winked as planned, Anne called a grand slam, then played like Serena Williams.
The Director was stern as their bids caused concern to a foe who were all in a stew
Kath groaned it’s hard, I’ve been dealt with bad cards, and Julie knew not what to do
Ron doubled, Chook chuckled and Martin was troubled, and Ruth just couldn’t stop giggling
Chris argued his turn, and Liz, rarely stern, said stop it, refrain from your bickering.
They all took their option to enter an auction; quick sips from the flask were ongoing
Alas it transpired, thoughts tumbled and tired, booze only to raise Rhonda’s chatting
Oh give it a rest, cried Pip in distress how can we perform at a premium
Shoosh everyone cried, we’ll be disqualified, hey Mark will you give Rhonda Valium.
Then came the last round, and Bega was found in first place despite some suspicion
Bridget and Malcolm wreaked terror unwelcome, outsmarting foes into submission.
Eric was troubled, no trumps or to double? Thoughts stuck and clouded by terror
Far out ol’ buddy, drawled Tom kinda loudly, “No, Trump’s sure is a big loser”.
The contract was found, a decision made sound, Paul C to play with our Rhonda
But none could agree where Paul was to be, so Jann took his place looking sombre.
Playing was fast, they were up to the task and doubled and slammed with no mercy
And then they were done, the game was won, and the girls stood making a curtsey.
Journalists pounced when the Director announced us winners without hesitation
And now the surprise … she read out the prize … the club had won a sheep station!
People were thrilled, the wine nicely chilled and Champagne flowed into the night
But where is Paul C asked Jann of Vickee; oh… he’s indulging in Turkish Delight.
At last they departed; new friendships had started, with many they knew to be lasting
Alas at the port, they swiftly stopped short, so shocked their boat was not floating.
The charred remains of their once mighty boat made fire the culprit most likely
The cops looked for clues, including the loos; they think it was caused by a ciggie.
How will we get home, they cried all alone, we’ve never had this kind of trouble
Oh stop all that foolery lets hock all our jewellery, said Rob his latest thought bubble.
Get lost, the girls cried, we’d much rather died, than part with our treasured possessions
But all did agree with Nancy you see……who offered to buy their sheep station.
With fame now claimed and money well gained, they chartered a bus back to Bega
Where crowds lined the streets, procession complete, with a band of bridge players from Tura
The Mayor stood tall a town key for them all, we promise your Club our promotion
For we surely agree, all people you see, know your club is the pride of our nation.
Happy Christmas Everyone