Revolving o'e thy level baize of green
Thine ivory spheres with pleasure I have seen,
Both red and white.
Likewise at pool, with yellow, pink, and green,
And pyramids whose ruby balls have been
A pretty sight.
Experts who handle smart the magic cue,
Perform the kie bosh feat, and side, and screw,
At many an angle,
But novices are wary what they do,
'Tis just, when they do cut thy cloth in two,
A guinea mangle.
And when thy votaries do perform at pool,
Their lives are taken with an air as cool
As hokey-pokey.
So your assassin smiles, as is the rule,
Conscious no law can send him to that school,
Yclept chokey.
Thy marker oft observes that he is dry,
In fact it is with him the usual cry,
Ruin, port, or sherry.
His lips at any of these drinks he'll try,
" Being more than seven," not in the leastways shy,
And always merry.
Assassination oft takes place upon thy table,
Don cueists stab a ball when they are able,
And make a cut.
I do not wish for you to look on this as fable,
For deeds are done as dark as any sable,
With cue and butt.
Armstrong and Krupp are men with noted names,
Famous in fact, from Tiber to the Thames,
As men of cannons.
But not a patch on thee, for in thy games
There's made as many as would fill, tho' minus flames,
A dozen Shannons.
Oft in thy presence I've enjoyed a whiff,
And pulverised no end of Hessle's cliff
Upon my cue.
And now, farewell, I'll just give thou the "gruff,"
Keep all thy cushions pliant, never stiff,
So long, adieu !
Thine ivory spheres with pleasure I have seen,
Both red and white.
Likewise at pool, with yellow, pink, and green,
And pyramids whose ruby balls have been
A pretty sight.
Experts who handle smart the magic cue,
Perform the kie bosh feat, and side, and screw,
At many an angle,
But novices are wary what they do,
'Tis just, when they do cut thy cloth in two,
A guinea mangle.
And when thy votaries do perform at pool,
Their lives are taken with an air as cool
As hokey-pokey.
So your assassin smiles, as is the rule,
Conscious no law can send him to that school,
Yclept chokey.
Thy marker oft observes that he is dry,
In fact it is with him the usual cry,
Ruin, port, or sherry.
His lips at any of these drinks he'll try,
" Being more than seven," not in the leastways shy,
And always merry.
Assassination oft takes place upon thy table,
Don cueists stab a ball when they are able,
And make a cut.
I do not wish for you to look on this as fable,
For deeds are done as dark as any sable,
With cue and butt.
Armstrong and Krupp are men with noted names,
Famous in fact, from Tiber to the Thames,
As men of cannons.
But not a patch on thee, for in thy games
There's made as many as would fill, tho' minus flames,
A dozen Shannons.
Oft in thy presence I've enjoyed a whiff,
And pulverised no end of Hessle's cliff
Upon my cue.
And now, farewell, I'll just give thou the "gruff,"
Keep all thy cushions pliant, never stiff,
So long, adieu !