And it came to pass, that in the Valley of the Crake, In the year scoredozen, there was marshalled by Dave son of Nichol
An eldritch combat with hammers, a gibbering of the white clans.
They came from the north-eastern shores, Phil son of Dennis,
Son of Ecglaf Scarrsson; from the south, the Emperor Burnettus
In his toga and sandals; from the west, ancient sage
Pidcockapocapetl; and from the far north, Alan son of Will,
Bairn of Icgtheow and bane of Edinburgh. Diverse other
Dread denizens of Middle Earth hied thither, even From the far south, from the very sump and plughole
Of the world, a swarthy Patagonian. Two days and nights,
In misty swirl beneath the peaks, war hammers waving,
The white clans gibbered. Each in turn fell. The horns last rang
As Dave son of Nichol locked Paul Riggsboggadottir in mortal strife,
The heavens cracking to their oaths and insults; but Dave
Son of Nichol triumphed, and the dark menace was whelmed,
And peace returned to the valley of the Crake, where the hills Come down to the meadows, and the brown cows stand.
Results (Cumbria Cup):