Dearest pals, after many days of laying in a quiet, dark room, with Muvver applying a medicinal cool flannel to my fevered brow, I am able to divulge the goings on of my bell ringing evening.

Greetings great pals and gather ye round

To hear the tale of a bell ringing hound!

I puff out my chest, full of Spindlesome pride

As my bell pulling power just can’t be denied

Delivered to the church in a mood of great haste

Left alone to an anticipated state of disgrace 

The loons scampered eastwards, public house bound

Siren called by a cold pint to cool them both down

I was heaved in the bell room by a system of pulleys

Emerging red faced, panting, knees scraped and bloody

The merit of skirt weights was now under question

As the strain had caused some digestive distention

Now fully installed in the bell ringing chamber

I turned to clap eyes on one of our neighbours!

Lover of vegetables, combat knitter of doilies

Sister Josephine, who was questionably holy

If my entrance was said to have caused a sensation

This was nothing compared to her hectic gyrations

Teeth clenched, legs braced, her midsection pulsed

It was clearly in lycra and not in God she did trust

A mere warm up she claimed, to loosen her hips

Yet dear Mr Claypole began to nervously twitch

This outward display was an education of sorts

As his partner was not known for her athletic jaunts

Called back to our purpose of bell based performance

The church warden began her pre ringing warm up

Her instructions were clear, we flexed and we limbered

And this was the point that Mr Claypole was injured

Somewhat distracted by more lithe athletics

It soon became clear that we needed a medic

HIs left leg hung limp, he had damaged a muscle

And getting him out would be one hell of a struggle

The warden declared an emergency extraction

And strapped a broom to his leg as temporary traction

We gathered him up and prepared to take flight

From what once was a space of grace and respite

But try as I might to grip on to him tight

My purchase was lost at great personal cost

The floor of the room had an adverse camber

Not designed for a straightforward scamper

I rolled down and over and then dropped through the hole

Sadly, still clinging to Mr Claypole

like haphazard clackers, we windmilled and fell

and the aforementioned limb began to visibly swell

My first and last visit to the bell ringing meeting

Was painful and lewd with a great deal of chafing

The moral of this story…well there is none

Just NEVER rely on a wayward nun