For Barlow!

DerekH

Handsome According to my Mother
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It was decided that since a certain member of the Beckerheads could not attend, they would be toasted, on Saturday, at dusk. It took a couple of times, but we finally got it.

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Thanks to ChameleonBear for getting the pic.
 
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This must have been really early on. I can almost see Moose's eyes. They're very patriotic too. Blue with red whites.:D
 
This is the scariest, most touching photograph I've ever seen. You can actually smell it. I may never sleep again.

Thanks guys.
 
we should do this every saturday night at dusk......

In the mall with the woman shopping at dusk? Whip out the 9 and salute in front of the Gap...."For Barlow" !!!
 
So when someone asks me "what's this Beckerhead club you're always referring to?" I can just show them this picture. It explains everything right there. Epic.
 
we should do this every saturday night at dusk......

In the mall with the woman shopping at dusk? Whip out the 9 and salute in front of the Gap...."For Barlow" !!!

Don't forget the Black & Tan! otherwise it just isn't right, and you have to face Barlow when you do it.

then be prepared to get arrested for drinking in public, brandishing, and open container :D
 
A POEM


They stood like oaks that glorious day

Atop a rugged hill.

Unleashed a cry that lives today

Strikes fear in brave men still.


They gathered round the campfire,

And raised their mugs as one.

Their stern and solemn faces,

Looked toward the setting sun.


Some say you still can hear it.

An echo soft and low….

The fearsome shout that rose that day

A mighty… “FOR BARLOW!”


If you think you hear it whispered,

While you’re nestled in your bed.

By a drunken man with steel in hand

And eyes so bloodshot red.


Just pull the covers near your face

Have happy thoughts instead.

And pray to God that what you heard

……….was not a Beckerhead.
 
A POEM


They stood like oaks that glorious day

Atop a rugged hill.

Unleashed a cry that lives today

Strikes fear in brave men still.


They gathered round the campfire,

And raised their mugs as one.

Their stern and solemn faces,

Looked toward the setting sun.


Some say you still can hear it.

An echo soft and low….

The fearsome shout that rose that day

A mighty… “FOR BARLOW!”


If you think you hear it whispered,

While you’re nestled in your bed.

By a drunken man with steel in hand

And eyes so bloodshot red.


Just pull the covers near your face

Have happy thoughts instead.

And pray to God that what you heard

……….was not a Beckerhead.


Good Lord, that is beautiful.
 
Damn Trade, you got yourself a nice poem there.
 
Poems, Toasts, Signs.....now thats a Thread!

I aint sure where I was during this, I think it was during my ''dehydrated myself and ran in hot sun'' puking episode LOL
 
We need a plaque with that poem wood burned or shot into it, shot might be more appropriate, but wood burned would be more accepted by the public....
 
galumph galumph barf galumph crash barlowwwwwwww

the sound of the barlow beast early in the morning, crashing through the shrubbery...

fear it!

FEAR IT !!!

run!
 
I was hoping to see the one where I'm giving trade the Barlow salute.
Who knew Barlow had a poet laureate?
 
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