With nettings and
lobouts and inane excuses,
His grunts and his groans, and his out-call abuses,
This double-fault expert and fence-denting whacker--
This clod is our club s perennial pest hacker.
This misplayer, dinker, and wide-slapping terror's
The undaunted dean of all dimwitted errors.
The pro that can teach every art of the blunder
By his own great example: the no-man's land wonder.
If he'd keep off the courts and just give up tennis
Our club could be free of this terrible menace.
If he d go off to war or take off with some dame,
We'd be thrilled to the core, what a boon to the
game!
But his antics, loud mouth, and his loud-colored
jacket
We have to accept, and his relic junk racquet.
He'll challenge the worst and the best in the club.
We don ' want to forfeit, and here is the rub:
He threatens to play us whenever we meet him;
But when all's said and done, there's never been one
Not a guy nor a gal in our club that can beat him.