Page:Mr. Punch's Book of Sports.djvu/132

Mr. Punch's Book of Sports My ankles are swelled to a terrible size;

My shins are a wonderful blue;

I have lain here a cripple, unable to rise,

Since the day I played hockey with you.

Yet still, in the cloud hanging o'er me so black,

A silvery lining I spy:

A man who's unhappily laid on his back

Can yet have a solace. May I?

An angel is woman in moments of pain,

Sang Scott: clever poet, he knew:

It may, I perceive, be distinctly a gain

To have fallen at hockey with you.

For if you'll but nurse me (Come quickly, come now),

If you'll but administer balm,

And press at my bidding my feverish brow

With a cool but affectionate palm;

If you'll sit by my side, it is possible, quite,

That I may be induced to review

With a feeling more nearly akin to delight

That day I played hockey with you