It’s boring playing Bingo when you hardly know the lingo
And you have to pick the numbers on your own.
All the fours, forty four and what’s that one for key of the door?
It’s so hard to do, unless you’re shown.
We used to have a syndicate, with usual rules of etiquette
But the members disappeared one by one.
Jim and Judy Pettigrew; both of whom knew what to do
One week they were there and then were gone!
Fred and Freda Crabtree with daughter Lilly made three
They used to laugh and giggle through each game
Poor Fred died of ague whilst Freda went quite vague
And Lilly, ran off with a randy Dane.
Now Geoffrey; our caller, the postman and footballer
Used to moonlight at our club twice a week
But he broke a metatarsal when he dropped a heavy parcel
And his Bingo calling days look pretty bleak
Cyril, he took over; he used to live in Dover
With his wife, and a budgie he called Keith
Now whilst he knew the lingo when calling out the Bingo
He had a habit of whistling through his teeth
The top plate was his mother’s; a Cynthia Caruthers
Whilst the bottom set came from over seas
We had to let him go; there were complaints from the front row
Because his teeth would shoot out when he sneezed!
John and Jenny McCarty; staunch members of our party
Suddenly stopped coming late last year
Jenny suffers gout; which stops here getting out
Whilst John; well he’s gone a little queer!
Phil and Philomena; club secretary and cleaner
Eloped one Sunday last July
Philip’s wife, Sarah; a Mental Health Carer
Didn’t even get to say goodbye!
Now I’m the only member; I renewed last December
I meet in my empty dining room
I pretend that they’re all there; they each have a chair
It helps to alleviate the gloom.
All the fours, forty four; Kelly’s eye, number one
Two fat ladies……………………HOUSE!