An Archer's Ode
We're the Havant and Hayling Bowmen
A merry little band
You might often come across us
Bows and arrows in our hand.
We like to meet on Thursdays
Near the church inside the hall
You may notice that we've been there
From the 'patterns' on the wall.
We work long and hard
To become the perfect shot
Many of us have mastered it
But some of us have not!
It's quite a special feeling
When the arrow leaves the string
And hits the boss dead centre
Inside that golden ring.
Robin Hood would sure be proud
To see us practicing his skill
Though we've no maids to rescue
Or Sheriff's men to kill.
At least the modern archer
Has set one thing to rights
We may still favour the colour green
But we draw the line at tights.
By Jane Hayward (Club Secretary)