A Noel Guthrie Acrylic on canvas

A Noel Guthrie Acrylic on canvas
The Cockabully Hunters --- from an original painting by Noel Guthrie

Monday, 19 May 2014

Kimbell Ladies Hockey Team

 My sketch of the old Kimbell pub about 1992
However, it was originally established during the 1800's

According to history, Kimbell was first settled as 'Silverstream'.
The were three separate springs above the western entrance to the township, all discharging a stream of clear water.  This was later channeled into a little creek west of the village, and the village was called Silverstream.
Later it was found there was some confusion with another village in Otago sporting the same name.  To overcome this, the locals took it upon themselves to change the name from Silverstream to Kimbell, in honour and respect of Fredrick Kimbell, who first established this part of the Mackenzie Basin.
As to whether Kimbell ever had a ladies hockey team, your guess is as good as mine. 
Written by Ernie Slow, around the 1950's, at a time when the total population of this little village would have barely reached 90 inhabitants.  All characters in this poem actually existed and were Kimbell residents at one time or another, it was just Ernie's sense of humour and his way of telling the reader his little story.  After all, he was quite a regular character  around the bar of the Kimbell pub.

 Now, Kimbell is a quiet place
With its store and school and pub
So they liven up proceedings with a ladies hockey club
No greater show had this town seen
As the they assembled on the village green

Now some of them are rather slim
While others they are stout
But they do get moving
You can hear the critics shout

Miss Adcock is a corker
She's wondrous, fast and clean
She here and there and everywhere
Where others should have been

Now Mrs Ross, she takes the eye
Although she's out of form
But when she's in condition
She's fast as any storm

Another lady past her prime
Her name is Mrs Scott
Now if she gets but half a chance
She's bound to have a shot

Mrs Howie takes her place
Behind all those in front
But alas she cannot stop the ball
For they're seldom in the hunt

The Burgess's from the other side
They couldn't stand the strain
But next season you'll see them
For they're bound to come again

The roll call found Mrs Erickson
A classy player this
Stopping all the good shots
The best players sometimes miss

Mrs White she hacked along
She was trained right to the tick
But alas her eye last Thursday
Was as crooked as her stick

 Now who's this young player?
Who offers them no quarter
Miss Manson couldn't come
So she sent along her daughter

Margaret Pipson young and sweet
Her play was really fine
She'd make the old ones spiteful
When streaking down the line

Miss Cadenhead was there of course
She couldn't stop away
For hockey is her hobby
And she'll see another day

Miss Ayson plays a lovely game
A lesson for the rest
For all the Kimbell ladies
I vote this player best

And so the game plays gamely on
It's luck is never in
But this is what you'll surely see
When they secure a win

The cheering will be deafening
As they echo around the land
As the farmers gape with wonder
Its good times now at hand

Fred Clarkson danced a highland fling
Upon the kitchen floor
He made the roof and rafters ring
As they'd never rung before

The cat run up the nearest tree
The dogs in a single bound
Scattered all the farmers sheep
For miles and miles around

Jock Ireland up the distant bank
Gazed down upon the scene
Shouting Libby, Libby, tell me dear
What ever does it mean?

It brings back distant memories
Of land so far away
Where the ladies play real hockey
Is that where you learn 't to play

Buck Nelson from the distant hills
Raced madly down the road
His flourbag whiskers flowing wide
As around the field he strode

I thought it was my heifer
A bellowing in pain
Tis only victors cheering
And the wailing of the slain

Jimmie Annan couldn't work again
When the news to him did leak
So he promptly turned a somersault
And fell into the creek

Charlie Howie pumped the beer so fast
It nearly caused a tragedy
When Bob Shute in an empty cask
Went floating out to sea

But whether its believed or not
A vision around me float
Hughie Waters went to work
Without an overcoat

So ladies do your best
If you do secure a win
Just think of all the merriment
You'll plunge old Kimbell in


No comments:

Post a Comment