Lost Bab ballads :: :: University of Virginia Library

Should the weather improve still, by Hokey,
We soon shall be playing at croquet!
Yes, knocking the balls, from the dawn
'Till the gloaming, all over the lawn,
Inviting our friends and our neighbours
To share in the pleasures and labours.
And first there'll be young Mr. Lukeing
Who is terribly given to fluking;
And Laura de Pippery Cooper
We call her “the pitiless scooper,”
Because she so spoons, and so scoops,
In putting the balls through the hoops;

And then there's Penelope Arrabin,
Whose brooch there's a strange-looking scarab in,
(Not that her brooch will a beetle be,
But the rhyme this the sole way to treat'll be);
And there is Young Cobb, who will try
To play with that glass in his eye,
But manages always to drop it
When he's making his stroke, and can't stop it;
And there's Spoony, who hits the wrong ball,
And Miss Muff who can't hit one at all;
Miss Spry, who's a player expert,
If she only consents not to flirt;
And Miss Keen who has got a sly way
Of pretending she really can't play,
That Captain de Boots—“splendid cweacher!”
May gallantly offer to teach her;
Old Miss Stiffler who thinks croquet “nice”—
(If not watched she will hit her ball twice);—
And that amiable Mole, who's short-sighted,
And to trip o'er the hoops seems delighted;—
There'll be these, and a great many more,
I could soon swell the list to a score,
Or at least to a couple of dozen—
And la!—I forgot, there's my cousin—
Fred—whose play may be always relied on,
It's odd that I'm always his side on!