Ode to the Hill of Stake

Nine Ooters met at Chateau Bank Street
Still traumatised by the Cairnsmore of Fleet
The day was dreich but the welcome was good
Fresh scones and coffee made up the food

‘Young’ Davy was met with great affection
Founder member of the junior section
Rex was there without his fruity Merlot
Peter had made it two in a row

Johnny’s sloes were in his gin
Jimmy’s old gaiters were in the bin
Ronnie was seen to open his purse
Had he enough to entice a nurse?

The cars were loaded, we decided on three
Muirshiel was reached with no stops for a pee
A strange thing happened as we put on our boots
Ooters were discussing alternative routes

For the weather was against the Hill of Stake
To try it today might be a big mistake
It’s not like the gents to act with sense
This change in mood was indeed immense

We marched up the track and into the glaur
Allan’s mantra ‘Whit we daein’ this for’?
The container was reached at the Barytes mine
For coffee and a biscuit this was just fine

Fellow walkers were welcomed and tales exchanged
To try the hill would be deranged
The choice was: the rain and the mist
Or the pub and an early chance to get pissed

Was there a choice?

The visitors’ centre was soon regained
A picnic table for us was retained
Peter’s joke is now part of folk lore
Unfortunately, for most of us, we’d heard it before

Five crows, a gun and a boy with a wink
Well Peter, we like the way you think
But this was not the only wheeze
Pepper they say can make you sneeze

Lunch was over too soon by far
A wee walk or go to the bar?
The Corner Bar was the place of choice
A decision without a dissenting voice

The Bar was empty but the beer soon flowed
The patter was great and never slowed
Davy Senior was in his element too
Sitting adjacent to the ladies loo

Big Davy would give the ladies a fright
By leaving the seat standing well upright
Wee Davy was looking awfa’ drawn
After his story about tasting the prawn

By 3.15 it was time to depart
Before the drink its effects did impart
For if one of us got truly blotto
The rest would simply remember the motto

Maybe this should be an annual event
For some it would be heaven sent
A short walk and some beer to partake
The day we don’t do the Hill of Stake