Hoodening Play 1991

All:
Hail to the master and the mistress
Here's to the household one and all
Now we are keeping our old custom
Once in the year we come to call…
Moll:
The Hoodeners are here!

Come on you lot, keep clear of me broom
I'm in a bad mood, so let's have some room
I've had hassle all day with our rowdy bunch
They've bin in that pub since well before lunch
Boozin' and skivin' and generally slackin'
If you ask me, they all need sackin'
Somebody's needed with a bit of clout
To try and sort them buggers out
'Cause nobody cares since Joe got the sack
Organization? That's something they lack…

(Enter Sam, Boy, Dobbin, George)
Moll:
Ah, here they are, nice of you to call
If they misbehave, I'll go up the wall…
Sam:
Moll you old bag, where have you been?
You've missed your round — (She's so bloody mean!)
Boy:
This is the life, we do as we please
That Masterbrew / Whitbread / etc. does things to my knees
Sam:
A trip to the bogs would not go amiss
Outa my way, I'm off for a…
Moll: (interrupting)
Oi, you wait, must you make a show?
Sam:
Sorry Moll, but I'm dying to go…
[SPECIAL LINES FOR EACH HOUSE]
Moll:
Right, you all behave — show some control
'Cause I don't fancy a life on the dole
Boy:
Joe was our waggoner, he lost his job
He's fell on hard times, lost a few bob
Moll:
Thrown on the heap for being a Wally
Sacking him though was nowt but folly
Boy:
Someone must have tipped Gaffer the wink
Who could have done it?
George:
          Who do you think?
(They all look at Sam, who continues)
Sam:
We've brought along George to meet you tonight
He don't say much and he's none too bright
Moll:
He's thicker than Sam…
Boy:
          But not half as tight…
Sam:
He likes coming with us, does George
George:
          You're right
Moll:
We can't seem to get the staff any more
Times being hard and farmers so poor
Boy:
Times ARE hard, the recession it bites
Workers get laid off…
George:
          No working nights
Boy:
We cut down on food to help pay our bills
Our stomachs are empty…
Moll:
          We've so many ills…
Sam:
Dobbin's guts are no better this year
Face him this way and you've nothing to fear
Boy:
But if you turn him round and give him a fright
Then he'll blow all comers well out of sight
(Sam whacks Dobbin, who farts)
All:
Oh No!
Sam:
Old Dobbin's next for the axe, you'll see
He's lost all control, it has to be
I'd sack him now if it were down to me…
(Dobbin kicks Sam)
Sam:
You vicious old nag, you've done in my knee!
Moll:
You're lucky that's all he tried to kick
A few inches higher / lower would flatten your…
Boy:
Dobbin's bin restless, he don't sleep at night
He worries a lot George…
George:
          Aye, you're right
Boy:
There now Dobbin, Sam meant no harm
But all is not well down on the farm
Moll:
It seems that Joe was caught in the act
With the Boss's daughter — (he never had tact)
They rolled in that haybarn one afternoon
The boss came along not a moment too soon
Old Joe was getting his evil way…
Sam:
When along came the Boss…
Boy:
          He was sacked the same day
Sam:
Which meant his job was there for the taking
Moll:
A vacancy yes, but not of HIS making
Boy:
P'raps we've a g-rass here in our heart
Sam:
Don't look at me, I had no part
Moll:
Nor me. I liked Joe, so upright and tall
A handsome man, an example to all
I once thought that I was in with a shout
I tried it on — but he gave me a clout!
He's married you see, and not really keen
Sam:
Trouble is Moll, he knows where you've been!
Boy:
We need a new hero to take his place
A superior man, with an honest face
Moll:
That means Sam won't fit the bill
He's shifty and sly, and over the hill
He's a smelly old git, he'll argue and fight
Ain't that true George?
George:
          Yeah, you're right
(Sam picks up hat and whip)
Sam:
I found this whip, I think it's Joe's
Why he left it, heaven knows…
Also this hat, that just fits my head
It suits me, I think it's got to be said
Moll:
He looks a bit pompous, a bit of a sight
What do you reckon, George?
George:
          Yeah, you're right
(Boy has an idea — there's always a first time!)
Boy:
Dobbin should decide who's to lead this group
He knows the "ins-and-outs" of our troupe
Let's have a contest! The rider who's best
Should be the new leader, in charge of the rest
Moll:
The Boss's son would want a trial
(Enter Boss's Son)
Sam:
And here he is! (That jacket's vile)!
Moll:
Speak of the devil and he's sure to appear
Sam:
There's something about that lad that's queer
Moll:
Just look at him, God's gift to mankind!
Sam:
The lad is a pillock, I think you'll find
Last year was enough, he got on my wick
He's different class…
George:
          I think he's a… ( / a right dip stick) !
Boss's Son:
Evening you chaps, Dobbin, Molly
You having a contest? — Golly!
Joe I've heard has recently departed
Why do you snigger? Has somebody farted?
You need a new Waggoner, upright and strong
Who commands respect, and sings a good song
Who sets an example shining and bright
Just like me George?…
George:
          No, not quite…
Moll:
To be in the contest, you must mount the jade
Sam:
And ride him as well, so don't be afraid
Boss's Son:
Here old nag, I'll show you who's boss
Sam:
If he breaks his neck, I won't give a toss
(Boss's Son mounts Dobbin)
He's on, but he don't look too steady
Give Dobbin a crack, he's almost ready
(Dobbin rears and throws Boss's Son)
Boy:
He's down, but he looks all right
He's dirtied his togs…
George:
          It's not his night!
Boss's Son:
Damn horse caught me out with that prance
I'll stand back, give you others a chance
Moll:  (impatiently)
Come on, who's next? We ain't got all day
George:
I reckon Sam she's looking your way
Moll:
Come on then Sam, it's your turn to ride
We don't want to see your cowardly side
(Sam backs off)
Boy:
Old Dobbin by the look of it ain't so keen
That cob on his face has to be seen
It's a look I've seen many times before
It usually ends up with his guts on the floor
(Dobbin shits himself)
All:
Oh No!
Sam:
Now that look is one of joy
Go on, f-f-f-fetch a cloth, Boy
Boy:
The thought of Sam stuck on his back
That's what made his bowels go slack
Moll:
What Sam needs is another old nag
Who's stronger, sturdy, and will not flag
Boss's Son:
What about Satan? He'll never yield
He's "perfick" for Sam, he's in Tapp's / Baxter's field
Moll:
What's up Sam? You've gone a bit white
Go fetch Satan, George…
George:
          Who me? Oh all right
Boss's Son:
I'll go as well, I've things to do
I can't stand chatting to the likes of you
(Off they go)
Sam:
Come on Boy, no point in hiding
Let's have a look at your expert riding
Boy:
Old Dobbin and me go back a long way
Hold steady chum, I'll mount if I may
(Dobbin crouches and Boy gets on)
There, 'tis easy for me, don't need no reins
Working with horses runs right thru' my veins
Sam:
He's a cocky young bugger… yeah, not much
Moll:
Old Dobbin responds to his gentler touch
(In runs Satan)
Moll:
Look out, it's Satan, get out of the way
He looks a bit lively…
Sam:
          It's the prunes in his hay
(Boy dismounts)
Boy:
Grab hold of him Sam, cling on tight
Get his bridle, watch his bite
Sam:
Whoa — Satan, easy, try to be calm
You mess me about and it's back to the farm
(Sam gets on Satan)
Boy:
He's on, looks good, in fact almost regal
Moll:
I think he looks more like Eddie the Eagle
Let's hope he can fly if Satan lets rip
He'll damage himself if he lands on his whip
(Boy remounts and approaches Sam and Satan)
Old Dobbin's ready to give them the charge
Look out, they're rearing — it's Little and Large!
(Sam whacks Boy with whip and they both fall. Satan runs off)
Sam:
Sorry Boy, I meant you no harm
I stretched out, you caught my arm
Moll:
He's dead… I've known him all these years
Sam:
Shuddup Moll, this is no time for tears
Moll:
Where's the sheet? Let's cover his body
Here it is — it looks a bit shoddy
Sam:
There's a book sticking out of his pocket, partly
Ah, it's "Fly Fishing" by J.R. Hartley
[Special lines at certain venues]… or…
I've read it — it's rubbish!
Moll:
Cover him up, nice and tight
Careful now, it's a frosty night
P'raps we should sing some sort of lament?
Sam:
Or even a song…
Moll:
          That's what I meant
(At this stage Sam attempted to sing part of "Look on the bright side of life")
Sam:
We'll need someone to fix up the flowers
Where's old George? He's been gone hours
Moll:
Here he comes, looking full of remorse
What kept you mate?
George:
          I can't find the 'orse
Sam:
I know he's thick, but I must say
Two short planks go only half way
Moll:
Who's this?
(Enter Boss's Daughter)
George:
          'Tis Boss's Daughter…
Sam:
                    What's she doing here?
George:
Never mind Sam, it's not your year
Boss's Daughter:
It's HIM — he's the one that told my Papa
That face I remember, he lives down / here in Sarre
Let me at him, I'll scratch out his eyes
Pull off his plonker, and deaden his thighs!
Moll:
Sod off! No women are allowed in here
It's we men only at this time of year
Boss's Daughter:
What about you? You're a strange kind of MAN
Moll:
Look under me shawl…
Boss's Daughter:
         No, I don't think I can
(She has another go at Sam)
I'll get you for this, you snidey git
I'll see one day you land in the s…
Sam:
Go on, sod off, or I'll tell your old man
I'd walk there myself, but I don't think I can
Moll:
Sam, it was you that ratted on Joe
You did the dirty, now we all know
Sam:   (shamefully)
I was having my lunch in the barn that day
I heard this noise, so I pulled back some hay
The Gaffer was close in the field cutting clover
They both rolled out as I called him over
I feel a bit guilty — if I'd said no word
Joe would be here. I do feel a turd!
George:
You thought I was stupid, but I sussed your game
So let this be an end to your quest for fame
Moll:
I'll take the whip, and give me that hat
They're not for you, you sneaky prat!
And what of the Boy — what would he say?
Sam:
He won't say much, well not today
Don't worry about him, he's only small fry
Let's go to the bar / for a drink, my throat feels dry
Moll:
We can't just leave him — his candle's bin snuffed
Sam:
Let's go to the bar / pub, the Boy can get stuffed!
(Boy sits up)
Boy:
Get stuffed… No thanks I'm coming with you
Moll:
He's alive!
Boy:
          It must be Sam's round…
George:
                    I reckon that's true
(Re-enter Boss's Son)
Boss's Son:
Hold on you lot, before you go
Daddy has sent me to let you know
That as you're such an unruly shower
I'm in charge — I have the power
So gimme those props, then go for your beer
We'll choose a new leader, perhaps next year
(Next, the Cause)
Sam:
We appeal this year for the Blind of Kent
The KAB is where our funds will be sent
Moll:
The Maidstone Centre is their latest task
So for Vision 2000, it's cash that we ask
Boss's Son:
One point four million is the total in all
That needs to be raised, that target is tall
Boy:
We hope to raise the funds a bit quicker
By collecting a total of five hundred nicker
Sam:
So dig deep in your pockets, support our good cause
You won't get away, 'cause we've locked all the doors!
All:
For… if ye the Hooden Horse do feed
Throughout the year ye shall not need

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