Just a Thought :: By Kevin Pyne

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Don’t ever marry a pilot gigger
Because they’ll be out every night you see
From the day after Boxing Day
To if they are at all successful
The “twice around” at Newquay

Oh no don’t ever marry a gigger
Because pilot gig rowing is all that’s ever on their mind
From sun up to sun down
After which it’s “team bonding” in the pub
Or down the gym for a work out
With only mountains of dirty wet kit left behind

No no don’t ever marry a gigger
Or they’ll always turn up late
And want to talk about nothing else other then if
She’s a good rower or he’s a good rower?
And stuff like who should be at three or four
And should they “dump the Cox” to save a little extra weight

So don’t ever marry a gig rower
Lessing you’re prepared to be a gig rower yourself
With an oar, smelly trainers, gaffer tape, and paint pot
And varnish brush, for company
Or at other times “precious little else”

And if you should be daft enough
To marry a gig rower then what is there to say
Other then get your loving in
During the winter months because it will all stop
When they start training for Scilly
From late December until that first bank holiday in May

And oh yes there are the plusses
Like sun and sea and sand
But the worst of it is the cost of it
All whilst nothing but nothing ever goes to plan

Because he won’t row with this one
And every rower knows best
All whilst they are always ready to criticise
Yet they rarely want to sort out any kind of mess

Mind you the coxswains they are all “useless”
And there is always the need a newer better boat
So if you can marry yourself a landsman’s
Or lands woman
Because frankly to be married to a pilot gigger
Leaves you penniless and with precious little hope

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