A lady approached me the other day
And asked if I’d find a few words to say
To some august gathering
They weren’t she said all in the spring
Of their days
A few had their funny little ways
But they were, she said, a ‘Royal’ yacht club
And a ‘Royal’ Yacht club you shouldn’t snub
I mean, guess who popped in the other week?
No not Liz, I hear she’s passed her peak
She’s been there once, but I’m not joking
She got the right hump when they banned smoking
So she sent in her place the Duke of Gloucester
No dear, Duke of Gloucester, not Johnny Foster!
Dukie thought he was posh and wealthy and that
Till he spotted Spruce Goose owned by Graham and Pat
He was dined in style, as befits a royal
And entertained by club members loyal
Well, they’re used to pomp, if you know what I mean
But I hear he was thrown by a ‘Mrs Green’
He was clearly expecting the Commodore
A fine, upstanding fellow for sure
But the chap didn’t turn up, it was a poor show
So he had to sit with some floozy, you know
Still, he went off happy, and let’s be clear
He was only one part of a special year
For this club is no new kid on the block
Its credentials are solid as – Northern Rock?
It’s been going a hundred and fifty years
A fine old excuse to crack open the beers
On 1st January 2007
And stop drinking in …2011?
The year started gently with a special day
Just to ease us on our way
And slowly built, week on week
Toward this eve’s crescendous peak
April saw Ramsgate’s pilgrims set sail
Beyond the Medway and the Swale
To London, hoping they would see
The birthplace of RTYC
But first, they’d have their finest hour
When a hoard of them invaded the tower
Hotel, well what did you think?
They’d prefer a siege to having a drink?
Sunday’s trip along the river
Held true emotion and sent a shiver
Down every spine, I tell you true
As the Temple Steps hove into view
Our birthplace felt homely, not the least foreign
Marked by a sermon from the Reverend Warren
Then back to St. Katharine’s to bask in the sun
And show all of London how well we’ve all done
As we sipped champagne and mother’s ruin
We wondered what the poor people were doing
London was fine, but like those gone before
We soon were pulled back to dear Thanet’s shore
Ramsgate Week was a crowing glory
Of this 150th story
Kicked off with the summer ball
A fantastic week was had by all
From millionaires in their Oystercatchers
To Cheeky Monkey points snatchers
From the pro’s with their X-Factor
To Magnum, more like Max Factor!
Rod Oates should have had marching bands
For his 40th time round the Goodwin Sands
Richard Matthews generously marked the occasion
Standing drinks for all those needing no persuasion
Then he took perhaps a bit more than his share
Of the Royal Temple’s silverware
And did we party in the marquee?
We had dancing, limbo, even nudity!
Though for two days we were beset by gales
They couldn’t take the wind out of our sails
The racing may have paused but that didn’t mar
The takings at the yacht club bar
Yes the year’s been special but so many have too
Ramsgate knows how to put on a bit of a do
Our club has great people who keep it alive
Roger Green, Dick Smith, Anne Peers and dear Clive
John Barrett, tireless worker and ex-Commodore
And all those officers who’ve gone before
Stuart Mackenzie and the good ship Bracer
Mike Brand and his brand new racer
This great entertainment from Jo and Derek
For the sake of a rhyme I’d like to thank Eric
Who’s Eric? And what about Jim?
There’d be more fish left in the sea without him
Racing just wouldn’t be as sane
Without the sterling work of Jane
You’re over the line? Case is open and shut
At your peril ignore the racing hut
I feel in the room a certain tension
Is there someone I’ve forgotten to mention?
Ah, that woman who asked me to do this speech
Am I safely out of her reach?
Of Davena Green what is left to be said?
We can I think take it as read
That Royal Temple’s first lady Commodore
Has done a grand job and so much more
A shining example of her sex
The gentlemen I don’t mean to vex
But what finer way to come of age
And from past to future turn the page?
To the club’s next 150 years
We face the future with few fears
Let us hope that fresh blood continues to flow
That new generations may come to know
The unbridled joys of the sea
And the wonderful camaraderie
Of our club, would you all raise a glass with me
The toast is the future of the RTYC!
© Joanne Ross – November 2007
