Pikes Party 2009 Song

To the tune of ---- "????" ---- By George

Yes we are the Pikehands, the Pikehands is our name
There's many groups across the globe but none are quite the same
We meet up once a year and find crazy things to do
And meet up once a year again and sing these songs to you
We are the Pikehands, we are the Pikehands
We are all Pikes, family and friends
We are the Pikehands, we are the Pikehands
We are the Pikes, does that make sense?

This year we were like gypsies, in lovely caravans
Organised by Gra and Al, nice one - thanks lads!
Fairly near a city, one that's never dull
A litte place called Beverley, near a town called Hull
Arriving Thursday evening, with beer and Piking kits
Tankards, pride and energy, pills and walking sticks
And a list of different items that we might maybe need
Fishing rods, cigars, guitars the habits that we feed
But it isn't always pleasure, it's often far from that
When rock climbing George ended up with Bryan as his hat
We are the Pikehands, we are the Pikehands
We are all Pikes, family and friends
We are the Pikehands, we are the Pikehands
We are the Pikes, does that make sense?

We regard Kingston Rovers, play a team that's from en France
Avec mousier Cullen, threw abuse like hot croissants
Miss! you petit frenchies, we'll score in une moment
And when they did, "trois of that," shouts Graham from above
We scaled man made mountains, parachutes we flew beneath
Met the world's most boring man and his side kick diesel Pete
Explaining simple tasks to us, like how to take a breath
A ten minute speech later, he'd say, "Does that make sense?"
Yes because we're Pikehands, and clever Pikes at that
We're capable of simple tasks you stupid dosey prat
We are the Pikehands, we are the Pikehands
Clever Pikehand yes it makes sense
We are the Pikehands, we are the Pikehands
Yes it makes sense, now meet my wrench

There is a Pike amonst us, the oldest of the old
And no matter what activity, he's the boldest of the bold
When we were parasailing on the Humber May 09
We thought that we heard thunder, way up in the sky
But when we saw no clouds above we did wonder why?
'Til we realised it was only Bob farting way up high
He is a Pikehand, a fragrant Pikehand
A noisey Pikehand, Bob is his name
He is a Pikehand, a fragrant Pikehand
If you share a room, then you are brave

There is another Pikehand of Trans Atlantic fame
For travelling round the USA watching baseball games
He has a thing for mascots dressed in funny ways
Inside an English woman, whom he has led astray
There's things about the culture and their food he must have learned
Triple fat and double cheese with deep fried dirty bird
And what is the result of all of this, is his body firm?
Eighteen stone departure and forty on return
He is a Pikehand, he is a Pikehand
He is a Pikehand, his weight's gone up
He is a Pikehand, he is a Pikehand
But it just means there's more to love!

Yes we are the Pikehands, the Pikehands is our name
There's many groups across the globe but none are quite the same
We meet up once a year and find crazy things to do
And meet up once a year again and sing these songs to you

Piking is a concept that bewilders many minds
Stopping those close family bonds eroding over time
Passing old memories as the past evades our minds
And leaving each town wondering, "Who ate all the pies?"
Mabe be it's Alan, maybe it's Graham, maybe Tim, Neil or Richard Squires
Perhaps the two Nicks, Jeff or Raymond, but we all think it's probably Bri
So there's Pike song, our little Pike song, it's over for another year
In the meantime we wish you all well and to all the family we raise our beers
To all the family we raise our beers.........