Dear all;-
        Not shell related so hit DELETE!
        I've been associated with tennis since Frankie Roosevelt was President.
Played, coached, now I run tournaments. But I also wrote some simply
terrible poetry---about 12 of these---about tennis. I thought I might
offer (say) three of them---so you wouldn't have to delete too much.
        Lord meecham, a lover of sport
        Constructed a tennis ball court.
                He invited a maid,
                Quaffed ale as she played,
        Enjoying to see her cavort.

        His shoes cost a hundred when bought.
        His racket cost triple. (hand wrought)
                His shorts and his shirt,
                Expensive. But Burt
        Played a game that was valued at nought.

        Sir Clyde, before playing the game,
        Said, "Easy on me. I am lame.
                There's grit in my eye,
                A wound on my thigh."
        (The bahstard. He won just the same.)

Well that's all from the home of Tall Stacks and Flying Pigs.
        Art