Peter Burgess
New member
graham said:I can't find the bloody song-books.
There are too many books in this house to keep track of.
That's what happens when you learn to read. Awful, isn't it.
That's what happens when you learn to read. Awful, isn't it.
cap n chris
Well-known member
Yes, rotating knives.
I mainly design slaughterhouses, you see....
I mainly design slaughterhouses, you see....
cap n chris
Well-known member
Yes, well, that's the sort of blinkered, philistine pig ignorance I've come to expect from you non-creative garbage. You sit there on your loathsome, spotty behinds squeezing blackheads, not caring a tinker's cuss for the struggling artist. You excrement! You whining, hypocritical toadies, with your colour TV sets and your Tony Jacklin golf clubs and your bleeding Masonic secret handshakes! You wouldn't let me join, would you, you blackballing bastards! Well, I wouldn't become a freemason now if you went down on your lousy, stinking knees and begged me!
cap n chris
Well-known member
Yes, probably; anyway, if you could put in a word for me, I'd love to be a freemason. Freemasonry opens doors. I mean.... I was a bit on edge just now but if I was a mason, I'd just sit at the back and not get in anyone's way. BTW, I've emailed you another hundred pages of data for crunching....
cap n chris
Well-known member
Hang on! Aha, yes; it was a mild exaggeration.
I've actually emailed you one page of data for crunching.
I've actually emailed you one page of data for crunching.
W
wormster
Guest
Cap 'n Chris,
roll up your left trouser leg,
put on your apron,
bear your right tit,
and repeat after me:
"I'm a damm fool, for wanting to join the WCC."*
WE might just let you come caving with US.
*apologies to ALL WCC members, I just couldn't resist it
roll up your left trouser leg,
put on your apron,
bear your right tit,
and repeat after me:
"I'm a damm fool, for wanting to join the WCC."*
WE might just let you come caving with US.
*apologies to ALL WCC members, I just couldn't resist it
cap n chris
Well-known member
S'not very respectful of such a majestic organisation! yada yada banana flannigans
yada yada banana flannigans
W
wormster
Guest
ROFL
graham said:
Down Below
Tune: Down Below
Author: Various
Source: Alfie/GSG/Exeter Univ. Speleo. Soc. NIL Vol 4 No 4 March 1968
There’s a cave on Priddy Green, down below,
Where a few of us have been, down below,
There’s a place called Swildon’s Four,
Where they dive sumps by the score,
We ain’t going there no more!, down below,
There’s a muddy sump we have to bail, down below,
With a leaky canvas pail, down below,
But your efforts are in vain,
As, for every drop you drain,
Twice as much runs back again, down below,
There’s a sump we have to dive, down below,
And it’s here we start to skive, down below,
There’s a Black Hole we can’t climb,
Long, low crawls through mud and slime,
Ain’t it all a waste of time?, down below,
There’s a chimney made of glass, down below,
Which you slide down on your arse, down below,
If you’ve got legs like O.C.L.
You can do it very well,
But for us it’s bloody hell, down below,
There’s a drop in Swildon’s Four, down below,
There’s no ladder there no more, down below,
If you fall out of that crack,
And you land an awful smack,
There’s no way of getting back, down below,
Willie Stanton had an itch, down below,
To improve the Twenty Pitch, down below,
But his efforts were in vain,
With his iron hoops and chain,
Biddle took then out again, down below,
There’s a place called Shatter Pot, down below,
And they said it’s had it’s lot, down below,
There’s a cavern vast and wide,
With a small hole in the side,
And it’s here we sit and hide, down below,
There’s a rift they call the Swine, down below,
And it’s difficult to climb, down below,
It goes up at a slant,
At the top the ledge is scant,
And it’s here we sit and pant, down below,
If you ever get the horn, down below,
Then your foreskin will get torn, down below,
As you squeeze along those crawls,
You will wear away your balls,
And your screams will fill the halls, down below,
If you ever want to screw, down below,
Try between sumps 3 and 2, down below,
Mike and Moira did it first,
And his crutch piece nearly burst,
But the mudbank came off worst, down below,
There’s a Forty Foot long drop, down below,
When it’s dry we reach the top, down below,
When Swildon’s waters rise,
You can hear the weegies cries,
“Pull us up before we dies”, down below,
Once the Forty cast it’s spell, down below,
Till the day the Flood rain fell, down below,
Though the way is smooth and clear,
And there’s nothing left to fear,
Some, in passing, shed a tear, down below,
There’s a place they call Sump Three, down below,
And some say you dive it free, down below,
When you’re running out of breath,
And you think you’ve met your death,
Then they say there’s nothing left, down below,
There’s a place they call Damp Link, down below,
There the water’s black like ink, down below,
When your face is turning blue,
From excess C02,
It Will be the death of you, down below,
There’s a place they call Bang Squeeze, down below,
Most of us get through with ease, down below,
If you ever pass that way,
On a trip with Cobbett, J.,
You’ll be there all bloody day, down below,
There’s some avens deep and wide, down below,
Where some of us have climbed, down below,
Where cowsh is falling down like rain,
Courtesy of Farmer Maine,
And we won’t go there again, down below,
