This wooden building by the Tweed,

That’s run this course for years indeed,

A course, that the oars of its members within,

Have stroked and strained to gain their wins.

“Hands on” the cox instructs,

To lift the shell from its struts,

With eager hands GD's crew begin

To move the four from within.

“Push off bow side, Paddling light”,

They move away, bridges still in sight.

Not for long, as the power builds

The drive of legs and hands away,

Eyes in the boat and do not stray!

Bows cutting through the silky water,

Rising, falling never to falter,

Then the moment they hit their stride

Travelling quickly on the outgoing tide.

She’s singing now, as the bubbles run

From bow to stern on their sojourn,

Past the fin and out of sight,

The cox and crew are working alright.

Lungs gasping, legs burning, blisters bursting,

And heads begin to shake.

Hearts are pumping, with adrenaline running

Through veins on fire, to satisfy that base desire.

To win.

Back in the clubhouse GD reminisced

Of the day they nearly missed

Their chance to win that famous pot!

With their hard graft,

It was not luck that brought them home with the cup.

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