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The B.E.C. Thrutching Song.

with apologies to The Eton Boating Song.

Submitted by Tony Johnson.

Ed’s. Note.        Tony has been collecting ‘Club’ songs for some time, and in response to my suggestion of several months back, sent in a number for publication.

Squeezed in like sardines together,
Motoring up to North Wales
We’re sure to have horrible weather,
With cloudbursts and blizzards and gales.

Chorus: -
So we’ll all thrutch together
With never a pause or a stop,
So we’ll all thrutch together
And hope we get to the top.

Early next morn we awaken,
At the crack of a watery dawn;
We all feel consistently shaken
We scratch in our fug-bags and yawn.

Chorus.

We crawl out of bed feeling groggy
With mouths like a lavatory drain.
The breakfast is sordid and soggy,
We stagger out into the rain.

Chorus.

Squelching though bogs and the marshes
Pounding up thrutch-worthy scree.
Suffering from fallen arches,
Footrot and housemaids’ knee.

Chorus.

Then up to the climbing we go thrutching,
Over the tottering blocks,
Scrabbling and frantically clutching,
Bombarded by falling rocks.

Chorus.

The rock is slimy and dripping,
We garden in grassy grooves.
Skating and sliding and slipping
Dicing on dangerous moves.

Chorus.

Hanging out over the scree slopes,
Dangling on rotten rock,
Screaming out for top-ropes
Sweating with fear and with shock.


Chorus

And that’s how we thrutch up together,
With never a pause or a stop.
We thrutch up regardless of weather
And eventually get to the top.

Chorus.