GO NO MORE A BOWLING
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My apologies to Lord Byron!
So we’ll go no more a bowling
So late into this night
Though our arms be still as willing
And the lanes be still as bright,
For balls wear out the fingers
And arthritis shows its might,
While the back pains all linger
And knees need rest’s respite.
Though the night is made for bowling
And the lanes close far too soon,
Yet we’ll go no more a rolling,
Until the clock strikes noon.
Copyright © David Drowley | Year Posted 2024
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