Goethe

 

 

Likes And Dislikes


by Harry Seymour

Source: The Bridge Player's Bedside Companion

Author: Mr. Albert A. Ostrow

 

The Bridge Player's Bedside Companion

 

I like to play with Fishbein Klein, he's very seldom out of line.
I hate to play with Broderick Ott, he just goes sot and sot and sot.

I like to play with Felix Gore, he never overlooks the score.
I hate to play with Braithwaite Marshall, he never knows we have a partial.

I like to play with Maude McPhee, she stays where she's supposed to be.
I hate to play with Tess McBroom, she's always roaming 'round the room.

I like to play with Pete Gapard, he doesn't fight the cards too hard.
While Abercrombie A. Van Blubber distends the neck to save the rubber.

I like to play with Maggie Slick, she doesn't often lose a trick.
Deliver me from Lotta Daze, who overbids then underplays.

I like to play with Luke McElvis, he keeps his mind above his pelvis.
He's a different boy from Oscal Beal, who never knows when it's his deal.

I like to play with Homer Keck, he promptly writes an A1 check.
I hate to play with Ignatz Gantz, he leaves his dough in his other pants.

I like to play with old Joe Cass, he knows exactly when to pass.
It's much less fun with Bull-Neck Bevin, he won't let go this side of heaven.

I like to play with T. Weingartner, who realizes he has a partner.
I hate to play with Jess V. Bubbles, who robs me of my juicy doubles.

I like to play with Osgood Nourse. I'm bad enough but he's much worse.
But when I play with Perc. Van Clupp, it's just a cinch I'll get shown up.

I like to play with Ginsberg Glutz, for he extinguishes his butts.
I hate to play with Stinckham Shay, whose snipes keep smouldering in the tray.

I hate to play with Matt Malone, he's always hopping to the phone.
I like to play with Avery Skeet. He doesn't stop to phone or eat.

I like to play with Snodgrass North, he knows his tactics back and forth.
I hate to play with Wahl Ide Pike, he never tumbles to a psyche.

 

This might run on and get much thicker, had not your bard run out of licker.