Hoodening Play 2002
Copyright (c) The Hoodeners. All rights reserved.
(final version)
- Moll:
- The Hoodeners are here!
- Cor it's nippy outside, I'm chilled to the bone
- Me fingers are frozen, I'm too cold to moan
- About getting you lot to sort yourselves out
- My lips are numb, I can hardly shout
- That wind whips up so very harsh
- And blows so cold across the marsh
- So settle down and make my life easier
- This weather is making my chest so much wheezier
- So where are the others? Ah, here they come
- Come on you lot — don't look so dumb
- [Enter Sam, 'arry, George and Dobbin, feebly attempting to sing 'Five jolly Hoodening boys']
- 'arry:
- We've been working so hard I'm fit to drop
- Old Dobbin's knackered, he is in a strop
- [Dobbin looks stroppy]
- Sam:
- That 'orse ain't used to working so hard
- He can't pull his plough another yard
- Last week he worked halfway through the night
- This can't go on…
- George:
- Yeah, you're right
- Moll:
- The reason we're short is we don't have a lad
- Our last one went off
- Sam:
- He was a bit sad…
- Moll:
- To seek his fortune in pastures new
- Sam:
- He moved to Swindon between me and you
- 'arry:
- So till we get a new lad we're relying
- On this nag here to work harder
- George:
- He's trying…
- 'arry:
- But not hard enough! He should take a tip
- Before he feels the weight of my whip
- ['arry swipes Dobbin who rears]
- Moll:
- You're a hard bugger 'arry, one of a few
- George:
- The animal rights lot will be after you
- 'arry:
- Praps I should go and march with the crowd
- To protect my rights, and shout very loud
- Sam:
- About freedom to pursue these country ways
- George:
- A waste of time that's what I says
- Moll [to 'arry]:
- Speaking of waste you're not much use
- Sam:
- It's self-inflicted alcohol abuse
- Moll:
- Boozing and partying and showing no tact
- Sam:
- Well he is called Prince Harry, that's a fact
- 'arry:
- With remarks like that you should cower
- You may well end up in the tower
- George:
- Speaking of Royals, it's been a mixed year
- The Golden Jubilee gave us much cheer
- Sam:
- But it was a year to forget for some
- With the passing of Margaret and the Queen Mum
- [Dobbin looks restless]
- Moll:
- Still, what's up with him? He looks a bit ropey
- Sam:
- All this work makes him look dopey
- The extra labour upsets his guts
- Specially if the diet includes some nuts
- 'arry:
- The other day he marked his cards
- Shot a rook out a tree from fifty yards
- Moll:
- I think he's brewing, we've not heard the last
- We must be set for another blast
- [Dobbin does the usual… a dead rook appears]
- Sam:
- Look, he's got another one!
- George:
- While we're here we might as well
- Read out special lines if there're any to tell
- [Special lines]
- 'arry:
- Well Dobbin could do with some help, I guess
- To get us out of this temporary mess
- Moll:
- There is a mare moved in down the road
- If she helped out it would lift the load
- Sam:
- She moved up from Bristol — and it cost her
- With a housing deal through Peter Foster
- Moll:
- No, Birchington is from where she hails
- We'll take her on if all else fails
- Sam:
- But we still have to look for a lad
- And maybe get permission from his dad
- [Enter Will]
- George:
- What about young Will?
- 'arry:
- He is very tiny…
- Moll:
- He's a local lad but I hear he's whiney
- Sam:
- Oi, how old are you?
- Will:
- I'm of age
- Sam:
- You looking for work
- Will:
- Depends on the wage
- In fact I'm fourteen and desperate for work
- 'arry:
- Nah he's too young — get lost you berk
- [Will goes off head down (partly in a futile attempt to avoid a clout from 'arry)… Aaahhhhh. Enter Bill dressed in school uniform; whispers in Moll's ear]
- Moll:
- He'd like to apply for the job of the lad
- Sam:
- I know we're short but it's not that bad
- 'arry:
- How old are you if I could ask?
- Bill:
- Fourteen, mate
- George:
- Is he up to the task?
- Moll:
- Give him a chance, he looks quite strong
- He's willing too
- Bill:
- I can't go wrong
- 'arry:
- He looks OK, but his clothes are tight
- Moll:
- He's not fourteen
- George:
- You're probly right
- Sam:
- You can tell he's lying — his lips are a-quiver
- Denial is not just an African river [audience groans if still awake]
- Moll:
- We've no other options and can't wait long
- Let's take him on
- Bill:
- I can't go wrong
- [Re-enter Will]
- All:
- Clear off! You're too late! Job's already gone! etc.
- [Will goes off… two fingers]
- 'arry:
- We'd best try you out on Dobbin, I guess
- Can you ride at all?
- Bill:
- More or less
- Moll:
- Dobbin…
- Dobbin, the amazing talking horse:
- Yeah?
- Moll:
- … meet Bill, your new mount
- Dobbin:
- Bloody hell!
- Moll:
- Jump on after three
- Sam:
- If you can count
- George:
- One, two… four. He's on!
- Sam:
- Just about
- Moll:
- Careful now you great big lout
- 'arry:
- He's wobbling… he's not that light
- Bill:
- I can't go wrong
- George:
- Yeah, right
- [Bill falls]
- 'arry:
- He's toppled down, just like King Kong
- What happened mate?
- Bill:
- I went wrong
- Moll:
- I think we might have judged too soon
- I don't think he's to be a boon
- Sam:
- Just pop off and get yer lunch [Bill goes off]
- He won't be back, that's my hunch
- George:
- Do yer think the fall affected his brain?
- Sam:
- Nah, I reckon he came up on the down train
- George:
- 'spose he got a dodgy carriage
- He looks worn out…
- Sam:
- No, that's marriage
- [Second fart from Dobbin: hits a Scotch hedgehog. Enter Birchington horse]
- 'arry:
- Ah here she comes, that Birchington filly
- She's affecting Dobbin…
- Moll:
- Look at his… [willy]!
- [genteel alternative, never used: 'he's going a bit silly']
- Sam:
- She cuts a fine figure she does, to be sure
- Fine strong haunches — her pedigree's pure
- George:
- She's got to him, the dirty rogue
- She has a look of Kylie Minogue
- 'arry:
- We should be so lucky, lucky…
- George:
- What is her name?
- Moll:
- I think it's Edwina
- 'arry:
- The galloping Major has definitely seen her
- [Dobbin lusts]
- Sam:
- They'll soon be at it if we don't hurry
- I hear he's already had a curry
- [Will wanders in]
- 'arry:
- Let's try out young Will, see what he's like
- Will:
- Should be easy, like riding a bike
- Moll:
- Just jump on and dig in your heels
- Then hold your breath and see how she feels
- Sam:
- If she starts to rear, hold on tight
- If you fall we'll call it a night
- Will:
- I can't go wrong
- George:
- Let's hope he's right
- [Will jumps on; Dobbin runs round and tries to mount Edwina]
- Moll:
- Steady Dobbin, quick grab his reins
- Hold him hard, there's lust in his veins
- 'arry:
- Hang on Will, his grip's getting weaker
- Sam:
- They're going at it like Sven and Ulrika
- [Edwina rears and throws Will; they trample him and run off]
- George:
- The poor lad's fallen and banged his head
- I hope he's OK…
- Sam:
- Nope, he's dead
- 'arry:
- Best cover him up while he's still warm
- Then we'll have burial rights to perform
- Moll [sobbing]:
- Have we got a sheet for the little mite?
- His poor crumpled body, what a sight
- George:
- We'll have to carry him from off this verge
- And then perform our funeral dirge
- Sam [aside]:
- If we must
- Moll:
- I can't do much more, specially singing
- Sam:
- Oh, stop moaning
- Moll:
- I'm not minging, am I? am I minging?
- [They lift him up]
- 'arry:
- He's heavy for a little 'un, no doubting that
- Let's put him down, the little brat
- Moll:
- 'arry!
- [Re-enter Bill with Dobbin]
- Sam:
- He's back — but at least he's got Dobbin in tow
- Oi, give us a hand
- Bill:
- I suppose so
- 'arry:
- One final lift from someone strong
- Will cart him off
- Bill:
- We can't go wrong
- [Funeral march:]
-
Our charge is dead, he's not with us anymore
Mind out the way as we back towards the door
He's waited all his years
To get this job we fears
He won't feel the pain as we drop him on the floor
- George:
- Careful now — he was quite loyal
- Charges may only be dropped by a Royal
- Moll:
- Now he's down, let's have a rest
- I think I need a pint of best
- Before we start to dig his grave
- Shame he's dead — he was so brave
- 'arry:
- I reckon he could have had this job
- He got on well with all our mob
- Sam:
- The wages too ain't that bad
- All the cash he could have had
- [Will opens one eye]
- Bill:
- I spose I'm in now he's dead
- I can't go wrong
- Will:
- Oh my head!
- All:
- He's alive! [they help him up]
- Bill:
- Oh no he's not! [pushing him down]
- Will:
- Oh yes I am! [and so on…]
- Moll:
- It's good to see you back with us all
- Surviving such a terrible fall
- Will:
- Thank you all for your kind words
- But can someone pick up all these turds?
- 'arry:
- I think you need to go home lads
- And tell this news to your dads…
- [Will and Bill go off]
- George:
- Well that's one thing we've got sorted out
- Now let's say what our cause is about
- Moll:
- This year we collect for the local hospice
- We collect on behalf of someone we miss
- Sam:
- Dig deep in your pockets, don't hold back
- Fivers or tenners bung in our sack
- 'arry:
- We'll send Moll round to complete the task
- In Maureen Knight's memory that's what we ask
- [Enter Edwina and very young Dobbin]
- George:
- Cor blimey, Dobbin! you've cocked up rather…
- It looks like you've become a father
- Dobbin:
- I demand a DNA test!
- 'arry:
- That's the result of one brief linking
- We've solved the problem…
- Moll:
- I know what you're thinking
- Sam:
- Now all our work can get done
- By these two here, Dobbin and son
- George:
- A final request while we collect your bread
- It's a Hoodening tradition to "wet the foal's head"
- Sam:
- So any donations in the alcohol line
- Would be very welcome — bitter's just fine
- All:
- For if ye the Hooden Horses do feed
- Throughout the year ye shall not need
[Song: 'We are St Nicholas Hoodeners' or 'Come Landlord']
Copyright (c) The Hoodeners. All rights reserved.