'Twas in the village scout hut that she first made her debut

Proudly showing off her ticket – Yellow 482;

She chatted quite excitedly beside a Gordon's Gin

But they soon left then followed by a Crawford's Shortbread tin;

Then Head and Shoulders, Action Man and toddler's xylophone

So sadly Yellow 482 was left there on her own;

“You'd better take that crap one” a mum yelled to her kid

So with disappointment on his fizzog that was what he did.

 

But good things come to those who wait and hence a second chance

Cropped up for our dejected one at Barnsley's Lions' Dance;

So proud upon the table top, thoughts of rejection gone,

New beginnings beckoned now for Purple 341;

But there's some wisdom in the phrase “Pride comes before a Fall”

And sadly for a second time she's left upon the stall;

It went down to the wire but with a sense of grudge

A toothless bloke preferred to take the out-of-date hard fudge.

 

As winning is a state of mind, so's losing – that's a fact

It proved so at the Women's Institute in Pontefract;

At charity events and craft fayres, parties and their like

From Huddersfield to Halifax, from Hull to Heckmondwike

She stood less chance of winning than of landing on the moon

Always doomed to failure, to collect the wooden spoon;

For she was not attractive, neither functional nor cute

Destined to ride home inside some Ford Mondeo's boot

And only to be let out in, it seemed, no time at all

To stand in shame the umpteenth time inside some village hall.

 

But unseen eyes were watching from afar at what she'd done

The Guinness Book of Records had logged her losing run

Where deep within repositories were kept extensive files

Which showed that she'd clocked up more than 600 motor miles

And beaten the old record famed throughout all village halls

Held for 50 years by some fizzy bathtub balls;

“This is Your Life” was contacted and Ant and Dec advised

To host a show about The World's Most Travelled Raffle Prize.