Twanging aka field archery

The hubbies going twanging,
Out in the woods tonight,
He’ll take his bow and arrows,
And give cardboard pics a fright.

They’ll be badgers, deer and otters,
Pictures stuck to hay,
He’ll be just like a Hunter,
Twanging happily away.

Robin Hoods his hero,
He’ll pretend he’s him tonight,
I would buy him a funny costume,
But he just won’t wear the tights.

With his super high tech piece of wood,
And high tensile bit of string,
His metal uber flexible sticks,
And a fluorescent bag to put them in.

He’ll mount his trusted steed,
His silver motorbike,
And off he’ll go, excited like,
Riding off into the night.

For me, the life of wife Marian?
I really think your kidding,
I’d rather be home watching Tele,
I might even take up knitting.

So whilst he’s off a twanging,
I’ll be at home tonight
In peace and quiet with chocolates,
And a glass of wine, rose? No I think white.