Poems > At Consett Park

At Consett Park

by Peter Hudspith

At Consett Park we all play. 

We have a game almost every day. 

The green is but our playing table, but in bad weather we aren't able. 

We all shake hands and wish each other well, but who will win, no one can tell. 

Getting close to the Jack is the aim. 

The closer you get, you win the game. 

The folk that bowl here, are jolly and so full of cheer and after the game we share a cupa or beer.