Sporting Verse
by Don Tidwell

Cowpasture Pool
Aquacart
The Boys at the Pool Hall
Leadership

COWPASTURE POOL

	As I ambled in the meadow
	I was startled, yet beguiled
	To come across a full grown man
	Behaving like a child.

	He grasped within his bony hands
	A rod of strange design;
	One end possessed a crooked nub,
	The other wrapped with twine.

	He seemed totally committed
	To beating up the ground;
	He'd set his feet, tuck in his chin,
	Then swing that rod around!!

	The object of his wrath at first
	Escaped my roving eye,
	Then there before him on the ground,
	I saw the reason why.

	There, nestled on a tuft of grass
	In perfect view of all,
	Reposed a small round object,
	A hard white shiny ball!!

	Then I noted in the distance
	That a patch had been mowed clean
	With an eight foot flag protruding
	From a cup within a green.

	In a state of concentration
	With swing both crisp and clean,
	He struck that ball a mighty blow
	To land upon the green.

	In awe, I asked this swinger
	As I hurried to catch up,
	Why he tried so hard to hit the ball
	Towards that little cup.

	He glared at me disdainfully
	And said "what kind of nut
	Would dare to interrupt me
	As I'm just about to putt??"

	"It's clear you are no sportsman.
	You must be some kind of fool,
	Not to recognize the pastime
	That we call Cowpasture Pool!!"




AQUACART

	The seventh tee at Davis Park
	Can tell a fishy tale
	About a riding golf cart
	Which took an errant trail.

	With no one there to drive it
	Or set the tricky brake,
	The darn thing started rolling
	And wound up in a lake ...

	The golfers vainly chased it
	From their spot upon the tee,
	But a happy ending to this tale
	There simply would not be.

	The cart and all its contents
	Took an unexpected bath ...
	The rubberneckers chuckled
	At the wet retrievers' wrath.

	The golf pro came a running
	When he heard this watery tale ...
	He suggested compensation,
	Or a token stay in jail!

	But the dry (wet) goods were recovered,
	Clubs and watch and wallet too,
	And except for minor cussing
	There was nothing else to do,

	But continue hitting golf balls,
	Chasing that elusive par ...
	Two men riding, one now walking (wet)
	Minus one electric car.

	There's a moral to this story ...
	There's a safety point to make:
	When you park upon a hillside,
	DON'T FORGET TO SET THE BRAKE!!



THE BOYS AT THE POOL HALL

	I know a group of fellows
	who meet most every day,
	At the Geriatric Pool Hall
	To eat and talk and play.

	A finer group of aging gents
	You'd never want to know,
	Though some of them can't hardly hear,
	and all of them are slow.

	First off there's Mr. Stringham,
	He's kinda like the boss ...
	If you fail to feed the kitty, well,
	It makes him kinda cross.

	He shoots a fairly decent stick
	But sometimes don't play fair ...
	If you get your one ball by the hole,
	He'll bang it out of there!

	And then there's Ott, the Dutchman,
	He walks around in pain..
	His gimpy legs have let him down,
	But yet he won't complain.

	He plays the cueball low and hard,
	It takes off like a rocket,
	And skitters round the table
	Til it ends up in a pocket ... "Scratch."

	Up next is Michael Uzelac,
	The Carbon County Kid;
	He shoots most every other time,
	Then wonders if he did!!

	He never takes the time to aim
	At balls he's trying to make ...
	He's an inborn rabble rouser.
	He always wants to break.

	There's other guys like Bruce and Earl
	And Wayne of many sticks ...
	And even Chris who's played the game
	Since eighteen eighty six.

	They all enjoy the comradeship
	And fun that's to be had,
	Which proves that "Geriatric Pool"
	Ain't really all that bad!!!



LEADERSHIP

	The players had assembled
	At the Stringham Billiard Hall
	To engage in competition
	Using cue stick, chalk and ball.

	There were Bruce and Ott and Marv and Paul,
	Two Johns', Genieve and Earl;
	There were Harvey, Howard, Henry,
	Harm, and Harold, and some girl.

	There were Charlie Jones, and Willard,
	Even Bill and Slim were there;
	And Bob, and" Chick the Chauffeur,"
	With his head of silvery hair.

	Then Bruce, who is "The Duffer"
	Said "let's get things under way."
	I'll play with Marv and Paul and Ott,
	If I can have my say.

	But Harold said "hold on a bit.
	You know I'm number one ...
	I once taught school, so I should say
	Just how these things are done."

	I'll be one, and Earl, you're two,
	And Charlie, you be three ...
	We'll flip a coin 'tween Paul and Ott
	To see who four will be.

	But Paul said, "uh uh", no, not so!!
	Not now, or any day!!
	"No youngster not as old as I
	Can tell me where to play!!

	Then Howard, 'ere the diplomat,
	Said "this is what we'll do.
	We'll all draw numbers from a hat,
	To see who plays with who."

	The bickering continued
	Throughout the entire day,
	Resulting in the cold hard fact
	That no one got to play,

	For Joyce descended on the scene
	And said "I'm sorry boys,
	But I'm closing down the pool hall
	Cause You're Making Too Much Noise!!!

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© 1953-2003 Don Tidwell