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Double Top


 It was Arrers not darts

In our East Riding twang,

Just dialect really,

Our regional slang.

Not exactly the Dream Team

When we played as a pair

But some nights me and him 

Would beat everybody there.


No trebles on a Yorkshire board

Just outer, Bull and Double Top,

But for game after game

Our luck just wouldn't stop

You played all comers until you lost:

As the losers bought it reduced the cost,

Sipping ale didn't do any harm,

Made me relax, loosened the arm.


It seemed to improve every dart throw

At times we won many games in a row

Then the drink wold hit 

One of us would lose control

And that would end 

Our winning roll.

It didn't so happen at our every meet

But when it did we were the team to beat.


Then I fell in love and didn't want to play

So he and I and went our separate way

But some times he d shout hey Slim

For old times sake let's take 'em on

But it was seldom the  same

For The magic was gone

 But once in a while we couldn't  stop

Hitting bulls and  Double Top.

And just for a while we'd  start to win.

At every victory Bernard would grin.

Then marriage came. I moved into town

It wasn't  very often then that I got down

For the village pub had lost its charm

And I lost the skill in my throwing arm

Our partnership came to its final end

But we still remained good drinking friends.


The we lost touch until one one day

I learned old Bernard had passed away

I drank to memory of the times we'd meet

When we had been the team to beat.














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