When Rome fell down, Don Newton with his flashing blade Took over.
He marched the corridors of Table Tennis power For more than fifty years. And graced a multitude of committees with his Presence.
As Mister NALGO, Don constructed A glorious empire Of countless teams At many a venue: Down Pasture Street, In Weelsby, Yarra, Knoll, Electric Club, Saint James... To name a few.
Amassing titles and cups From every division Of the Grimsby League: A roll of honour too long to recall, Now stretching to the horizon.
No fancy sponge, reversed rubber, Or long-pimples for our Don. Give him a plain old Barna bat, Devoid of sponge, short-pimples out, To give that ball a mighty clout.
The simple things in life Were all he wished: A pint of mild, Or game of chess, Would always go down well.
This table tennis granddad knows the score, And takes his leisure now, Contented as The sun goes down.
Paul Butters
Dedicated to my old friend Don, who passed away in the early hours of 9\2\2015. Actually composed when he retired from serious involvement with table tennis in 2009. Have slightly amended it tonight, hopefully for the better.