Hoodening Play 2001

Copyright (c) The Hoodeners. All rights reserved.

(final version, with added HP)

Moll:

The 'oodeners are 'ere! Now let's 'ave some hush

Or I'll clout your head with the back of me brush.

Many a skull's been cracked by this broom

For failing to listen when I come in the room.

Ah, here come the others, all prophets of doom

I'm sure one of 'em can help lift the gloom.

[Enter Boy, Sam, George]

Boy:

Cor, the wind's been howling, it's teeming with rain

I'm not going back out there again

Sam:

It's knee-deep in mud wherever yer goes

It seeps through your laceholes and squidges your toes

Moll:

You wouldn't send a horse out on such a night

Don't you agree George?

George:

          You're probably right

Boy:

Yesterday 'arry took Dobbin to the vets

Neither are back so place your bets

Moll:

Will Dobbin recover, or has life passed him by?

Is he destined for the stable in the sky?

George:

We're all getting older and feeling our age

But we must struggle on to earn a wage

Sam:

Money's short, our budgets are tight

Like Gordon Brown's

George:

          Not that tight!

Boy:

Old Sam's knackered, he's full of moans

Sam:

I might sit down to rest my bones

They ache so much that I must rest

I need a break, two weeks at best

Boy:

The Boss'll never let you go away

… unless it's for a Saga holiday!

Sam:

You cheeky…

[Moll intervenes]

Moll:

Steady you two… Boy, where's that grub

And George, you can give Sam's back a rub

George:

Get off, you don't know where he's been

Boy:

Knowing Sam it's somewhere obscene

Sam:

This 'ere sandwich is as tough as my welly

I bet this gristle will damage my belly

Must be pork, or praps it's deer

Boy:

No, I got it cheap

Sam:

          Oh I need a beer

Come to think of it, I feel a bit queer

[Enter 'arry]

'arry:

I took the 'orse, but it was too late

They put 'im down, he was in a state

[They look horrified]

No I jest, he's a clean bill of health

But he must learn to move himself

C'mon Dobbin…

[Dobbin rushes in and charges about]

Moll:

He's had a scare but must now work hard

If it's not to be the knacker's yard

'arry:

The mare that went with us from Shuart Lane

Had to be slaughtered, she was in pain

She put up a fight, I had to take 'er

Then I sold the carcass to a sandwich maker

Sam:

Boy… !

[Sam retches]

Whoever:

Now it's quiet, if nobody minds

I'll read out these 'ere special lines

[SPECIAL LINES FOR EACH HOUSE]

Moll:

Now Dobbin's fit, we'll work hell for leather

To clear the backlog caused by the weather

Sam:

It's all a result of global warming

Boy:

Heat keeps rising

George:

          Clouds keep forming

Boy:

Rain keeps falling

George:

          Mud's appalling

'arry:

More overtime would help ease the load

Boy:

Extra hours in that field down the road

You know, the one that's standing in water

George:

Right next door to the Boss's daughter

Given the chance, he'd stay there all night

Boy:

What do you mean?

George:

          You knows all right

He really has got the hots

Sam:

What's her name?

George:

          Harriet Potts

Sam:

Dobbin's quite keen on that mare down the Court

He gets excited just at the thought

[Dobbin looks excited]

If he gets excited, he overeats

And redistributes all that he eats

[Dobbin farts]

All:

Look out!

Moll:

If the Boss finds out there'll be hell to pay

You both keep your distance, that's what I say

'arry:

Let's get this horse hitched up for work

Come on, this is no time to shirk

Where's the plough?

Boy:

          Up there in the sky

'arry:

Do you want my fist in your eye?

Boy:

It's just to the left of Castor and Pollux

'arry:

Shuddup Boy, you do talk…

[Moll interrupts]

Moll:

There must be somewhere we can look

To get some help, praps a book

George:

What about this 'ere Internet?

Help's available there, I bet

Sam:

We need a website, that's what I say

George:

What, www.dobbin.co.uk?

Sam:

That's quite an address, let's give it a bash

But with Dobbin we'll need a backward slash

[Dobbin has a slash]

Boy:

All you need is a screen in your house

To move your cursor, some sort of mouse

Moll:

I can't stand mice

Boy:

Calm down Moll, take my advice

For communications, stick with your letters

Leave the technical stuff to your betters

[Moll raises her broom]

'arry:

It's too much for me, it's over my head

Boy:

That's because you're half brain dead

'arry:

You cheeky prat, he's too much lip

If he's not careful, he'll feel my whip

Boy:

Ooh, yes please!

Sam:

Let's get back to transport to cross this water

That covers the fields, not as it oughta

George:

What of that contraption Boy?

That you thought up… don't be coy

Moll:

Go and get it, we need assistance

We can't rely on Dobbin's persistence

Voice:

Boy, this is Big Brother, will you please leave the house

[Boy goes off]

Moll:

What's this 'ere? A Swede? That's fun

Sam:

Let's call it Sven Goran Erikkson

George:

At least he's doing well in his field

'arry:

That's more than can be said of this year's yield

[Boy comes back with some form of skis]

George:

What he's got on just ain't legal

He looks just like Eddie the Eagle

Sam:

It could set a trend for either sex

He's got more taste than Posh or Becks

Boy:

You may mock but these long shoes

Help me cross the fields I choose

Dobbin tows me with this piece of rope

Sam:

It'll never work George, will it?

George:

          Nope!

Moll:

Just a thought Boy, not seeming to be harsh,

How will Dobbin cross the marsh?

Dobbin (aside, sometimes):

He can walk on water!

Boy:

Aaahh, I've not worked that one out just yet,

But at least it stops my feet getting wet

'arry:

Come on then, tie the lead to Dobbin's yoke

Not too tight, he mustn't choke

Sam:

This is really some sick joke

George:

Come on Sam, give him a poke

[Dobbin runs and pulls boy, then stops; Boy mounts, both collapse; Dobbin runs off]

Moll:

He's down, I think he banged his head

Worse that that, I think he's dead

All day long so hard he's grafted

Now look what's happened

Sam:

He's been shafted!

George:

Naah, he's stunned, he's off the pace

Look at that expression on his face

Sam:

He's always like that, most of the day

I couldn't stick the bugger anyway

Moll:

Sam, how could you, have you got no heart?

Sam:

Ah, cover him up, the little fart

George:

A sheet would help if we have one spare

'arry:

This one's got a bloody great tear

[They cover him up]

Sam:

Let's leave him there to lie in state

I need a drink, I just can't wait

Moll:

A nice glass of ale would slip down a treat

It would take away the smell of his feet

'arry:

Praps we all should sing a lament

While he lies there like a bag of cement

[Song, to the tune of Bob the Builder]

Boy's a goner

Can we fix him?

Boy's a goner

Do we care?

No! We'd better get some work done then…

Moll:

Let's pick him up and cart him off

Alright Sam, no need to scoff

George:

We'll need some magic to lift this rotter

'arry:

My name's 'arry, but I ain't a Potter

[Re-enter a mobile Dobbin]

Moll:

Look it's Dobbin, he's mastered the skis

I think he's got 'em strapped to his knees

Sam:

Don't know who he's trying to impress

He must think he's the Warthog Express

George:

In any case, let's get out the way

Something must have got in his hay

[Enter Parry Hotter]

Parry Hotter:

Evening all! You need some magic?

What's bin 'appening 'ere? Looks tragic

What I'll do is wave my wand

To wake 'im up, 'cos you've been conned

Just tie Dobbin to the feet of the lad

Then pull him up…

George:

          You must be mad

Parry Hotter:

Just slip the rope around his heel

Then slap old Dobbin to make him squeal

I'll wave this once just where he fell

Then once again to break the spell

[Nothing happens]

I'll wave this twice just where he fell

Then once again to break the spell

[Nothing happens so 'arry grabs the wand]

'arry:

Give it here! I'll do this bit.

Off your arse you lazy git!

[Slap Dobbin who tugs Boy up; Boy is revived]

Boy:

Whoa, stop

All:

He's alive!

Sam:

And as for you, your spells don't work

Get back to school you little jerk

[Exit Parry, head down; aaaahhh]

Boy:

Well help me up off my backside

Careful now, I have just died

Moll:

We thought for a minute you were a gonna

Sam:

We were really worried and we didn't wanna

Run you down or anything like that

George:

There you are mate, here's your hat

Boy:

Well I think I might partake of a beer

Praps that would help me feel less queer

Sam: (aside)

It'll take more than one

George:

It can't be fun feeling so chronic

What he needs is a really good tonic

[Enter Harriet Potts & Parry Hotter; last few days only]

Boy:

Harriet!

Harriet Potts (to Sam):

Is it you that's upset my brother?

Be careful or I'll tell 'is mother

Just watch out you evil trog

Or I'll turn you into a bloody frog

[Throws banger on floor]

Oh look — it's worked already!

Parry Hotter:

That's my sister!

Harriet Potts:

Well then Boy, let's go make some Magick

Boy:

If you insist…

[Both go off, followed by Parry Hotter]

Sam:

It's tragic

'arry:

I think I might join Moll in a stout

Moll:

You get off or you'll get a clout

'arry:

But let's be serious and take a pause

Whilst we tell you about this year's cause

George:

A few weeks ago an old friend died

Tom West was the name we Hoodeners sighed

Sam:

For Tom was the last of the old Hoodening troupe

He performed 80 years ago with his group

Moll:

He was the final link with the Hoodeners past

That's now been severed, but the legacy lasts

'arry:

For Tom was a Prisoner of War which he hated

For five long years he was [constipated /] incarcerated

[Re-enter Boy, somewhat dishevelled]

Boy:

What kept him going through those difficult years

Were Red Cross parcels, which eased hunger fears

George:

These monthly arrivals were never forgot,

They always came through, no matter what

Moll:

So for this memory we ask for your 'ackers,

So we can become Red Cross backers

Sam:

Just chuck us your money in our old bag

Which will be handed round by that old hag

All:

For if ye the Hooden horse do feed,

Throughout the year ye shall not need!

Copyright (c) The Hoodeners. All rights reserved.