Wolfgang von Goethe

 

A Bridge Poem

Written by Joe Ancrile

Source: Bridge Bugle - Florida Unit 128

 

Twas two weeks before Christmas, when all through the bank
Not a creature was stirring, not Bob Jones, not Frank.

Bidding boxes were placed on the tables with care,
In hopes that Chuck Clickner soon would be there.

The players were seated all snug in their chairs;
So I glanced ‘round the room at all the tough pairs.

Look, Bernstein, look Mutlu, look Kathy and Jack,
Look, Leon, look Louie, look Ada Belle Flack
.

Joe Dallao, my partner, was West; I was East.
We had just stuffed ourselves on a holiday feast.

When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,
Turned out to be Dottie and Doyle in chatter.

The director arrived, took one look and said Wow!
You should be on your second board by now
!

It was time to begin. The cards shuffled and dealt,
I was eager to play, but much tension I felt.

The first hand I’m dealer, and what should appear,
But eleven highs. My call was not clear.

Should I pass, open one, or possibly two?
Already I’m stuck for something to do!

I decided to pass, and just take it slow,
Our opponents, you see, were Karl and Yo.

Karl opened one spade, my partner said Double.
I worried my next bid might get us in trouble.

Yolanda passed. I leaned back in my seat
And bid two no trump but prepared for defeat.

Dummy came down. I was left in a stew.
Long story short, I went down two.

Our next round was worse, we were white versus red,
Down five doubled against Janet and Ted.

And the third round wasn’t exactly a thriller,
We lost every board against Wilson and Miller.

Then came a disaster, another tough pair,
We had to contend with Steve Cohn and Gail Haire.

The carnage continued; our game went in cycles,
We bid Cappelletti when we should have bid Michaels.

Dyzacky, Szyznski, it no longer mattered,
Deal after deal, we kept getting splattered.

Now Leonard and Rose, then Timmons and Funk,
If this were school, Joe, we’d both surely flunk.

All through the session we kept getting hurt,
Overbids, underbids, failure to alert.

By the end of the game, not one pair did we beat,
When without warning Joe sprang to his feet.

 

I know what went wrong, he declared with derision,


Your card says Standard, and mine says Precision!

 

 

 

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