Bates brings out the best in Mothers

What a racket, what fun
For mother and son
Furnish’d and burnish’d by Woolhampton sun
What strenuous doubles they played after tea
They in the tournament at sunny Elstree

Love-thirty, love forty oh weakness of joy
The speed of Ms Hodson, the grace of a boy
Fiery godmother Findlay with Max having fun
I am weak from your loveliness,  Ms Shona Goaman

Mrs Holmes and your son, Mrs Holmes and your son,
How mad they were, sad they were , glad that you won
The warm handled rackets are back in their press
And mothers Smiley and Pratt love their Freddies no less

Mrs Davies’ new trainers shine as they walk
Mrs Johnson and Jones now buried in talk
Chatter relentless and perspiring limbs
As the clock chimes at last for the much needed Pimm’s

Mrs Giffard-Moore Pimm’s? Mrs Giffard Moore Pimm’s?
The battle now over as Woolhampton dims
Vict’ry and loss, the words never said
And the ominous, ominous husbands ahead.

By roads not adopted by woodlanded ways
The mothers depart in the chilled summer haze
Into eight-o’clock Berkshire and evening dates
How these sportiest of mothers loved playing on Bates.

Well played, all mums and boys! Well done to Andrew and Jennifer for winning the
tournament ; thank you for making it so much fun.

Wine for my belles. We ride at dawn.