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Sat, 16 Oct 1999 06:21:12 -0700 |
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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
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