Whroo Polo Club

Up among the Ironbarks - by Mick Coventry

Ode to Polo on the 130th Anniversary by Sinclair Hill

The Half Star Hilton - by Mick Coventry, 2004

THE WHROO TOWN POLO CLUB - by Mick Coventry, 2000

Up among the ironbarks where the wind blows hard and keen,
Where the ground is tough like flintstone and the rains are seldom seen.
It’s there you’ll find the greatest team that ever played in field or scrub.
A band of boisterous locals called the Whroo Town Polo Club.
Their polo skill is awesome, their talent – inspired and sound.
And they layed a challenge to any team to come and play their ground.
Whroo Town were undefeated, though they’d never actually played a game.
But the title “Undefeated Champions” was their humble claim to fame.

They built their ground on Shentston’s Flat, ‘neath a hillside craggy brown.
At a place known as “Malabar”, just on the edge of town.
Now Whroo Town was a smallish place like many towns of the scrub.
It only had three buildings – a casino, a brothel and a pub.
But polo was their passion, t’would be their pride and joy one day.
They got bigger crowds to polo than they did to church on Sunday.

Now, there was another polo club, somewhere down the city way.
They’d heard about the Whroo Town boys at their pub in Double Bay.
So the challenge was accepted in the name of sport and fame.
They’d show this Whroo Town Polo Team how to play the game.
So they’d headed up to Whroo Town on a sunny April day.
These “lily livered losers” from that pace called Double Bay.
Now, when they took the challenge up, to play on Whoo Town courses.
They kindly asked the locals, “Could you please supply the horses?”

The locals had thoroughbreds for themselves, with plaited manes and tails.
So they chose for their opposition, a new breed – called Clydesdales.
The captain of the Whroo Town team, one “Sam McCardel esquire”
He’d built the polo field himself with a “permit” from the local Shire.
He was a cunning sort of captain and showing no hint of remorse,
He loosened all the girth straps on each and every Clydesdale horse.
Then just before the game began he hid behind a pile of pallets,
And shortened all the handles of the opposition’s mallets.

And as the game got underway, I’ll tell you what Sam did.
He offered to bribe the Umpire with a hundred thousand quid!
But the game did get into gear, and the contest ebbed and flowed,
As those “lily livered losers” on their Clydesdales – proudly rode.
And the game was so exciting that the crowd received a thrill.
But the lack of polo talent meant the score was nil to nil.
Because the “lily livered losers” on their Clydesdales up so tall,
With their shortened handled mallets, they couldn’t reach the ball.

The Whroo Town mob were just as bad as they’d never played the game.
And their lack of Polo knowledge was a crying bloody shame.
Then the game became quite willing as jousting mallets struck the air.
And they waddied one another as if they didn’t even care.
They struck each other senseless til the field was bloodied – red.
For five days the battle raged and the ground was strewn with dead.
Names like Bellard, Vanner and Beattie, all of them stout-hearted.
Had gone and cashed their chips in, and were now the dear departed.

But, Sam McCardel raised himself from amid that deathly toll,
And dragging himself back on his horse to strike the winning goal.
He swung his mallet fifty times, but, not once he hit the ball.
Like a golfer taking “air swings” – he had no idea at all.
Then he mustered up an effort with his last surviving breath.
And hit the ball, but missed the goal, then tumbled to his death.

The game’s now part of history and all the locals can recall
That dreadful game of polo when Sam couldn’t hit the ball.
They remember it like yesterday. They remember the final score.
Five days of blood, guts and boredom to achieve a nil all draw.
When the Whroo Town boys played polo on that sunny “Malabar” day.
Against the “lily livered losers” from that place called Double Bay.

Mick Coventry
April 2000

The Bush Polo Picnic Match by Reg Poole, 2003

(sung to the tune of “Click go the Shears”)

Up the Northern Country where the air is fresh & clean
The Bush land bids you welcome – no better place you’ve seen
Come & boil the billy, have some damper & some stew
& Make a personal acquaintance with the polo team from Whroo

Click go the Sticks boys, Click, Click, Click
The bush polo picnic match is clever fast & slick
The horses jostle & they push as the mallets all go whoosh
There’s Excitement in the Air in the Rushworth Bush

They Climb up in the Saddle & they all gaze around
They’re ready for the game – they wont let their team mates down
There’s pride in their hearts & fire in their soul
As they dream about the moment whey they’ll hit the winning goal

Now you’ve heard of the Melbourne Cup and the AFL
The Kind of the Paddock game will blow them both to Hell
Getting back to basics is where you want to be
Waltzing in the Bush land – One Two Three

The Oath of Allegiance by Mick Coventry, 2003

We enthusiastic band of brothers who come from near and far
To play some good bush polo on the field at “Malabar”

We solemnly promise to obey the rules of the home town club
As set down by Sam McCardel one drunken night in the local pub

We promise to enter the field as sportsmen upholding bush polo’s good name
Leaving both sabotage and extortion to before and after the game

We hereby promise not to cheat unless someone else cheats first
Then, of course, it is open slather, and we shall each cheat our worst

We will obey the umpires decision and a bribe will not be considered
Unless it is in cash, in unmarked bills and in a plain brown paper bag delivered

And we hereby agree that a fighting on the field would be a shame
So the fight will be in the carpark immediately after the game

And finally we also agree to uphold the spirit of competition
To have some fun and enjoy ourselves in true bush polo tradition

Up among the Ironbarks - by Mick Coventry

Up among the Ironbarks, in the quiet & peaceful bush,
far away from city rattle, and the ceaseless hum & push.

It was in the year 2000 at this Jewel within the Scrub,
that a Band of boisterious locals formed the Whroo Town Polo Club.

And each year in October, People come from near & far,
to enjoy a game of Polo At Whroo’s famous “Malabar”.

A weekend of festivity, with a heap of things to do,
enjoy some country hospitality, with time spent up at Whroo.

From Tasmania to the top end, From the City to the Scrub,
No on plays at Polo like the Whroo Town Polo Club!

Tack up & get into em!

“The Half Star Hilton” - by Mick Coventry, 2004

The Hilton conjures up luxury – in the traditional sort of five star way.
Like their chain of hotels around the world where the rich and famous stay.
There are Hiltons in New York and London and even in Melbourne as well.
And there must be one in France – cos the name “Paris” Hilton ring’s a bell.

A new Hilton is on the Horizon, but this one’s more of a rural retreat.
A haven for Bush Polo players, helping make their weekends complete.
It’s located in Ironbark Country near the thriving township of Whroo.
And the famous Whroo Bush Polo Club has a five star welcome for you.

They play their bush polo with Gusto, like the Geebung players of old.
And their welcoming “Half Star Hilton’ is as priceless as Ironbark Gold.
But you won’t find a car-parking valet or a porter to carry your things.
It’s more a case of help yourself. Each guest unloads whatever he brings.

There’s no one to make up your room or fold down your bed sheet at night.
But the kitchen is always open. But with no cooks or waiters in sight.
But at the end of a hard day ride it’s a welcoming sight place for a beer.
And the late check-out service is available every day of the year.

There’s nothing on the room service menu. No breakfast served to your room.
And it’s nice if you help do the dishes or be good on the end of a broom.
The evening barbeque is always quite special, with a yarn and a bottle or red.
Till you stand bleary-eyed and blotto, and wander off in search of your bed.

The facilities are far from five star, but improving with each passing day.
But the mate ship at the “Half star Hilton” will always lead me to say.
“I’d trade your best city apartment and the style of a posh London pub.
For a night at the “Half Star Hilton” in the shade of the Ironbark Scrub”.

Mick Coventry. Nov., 2004