It’s the first time this side of The Well that I’ve found a venue playing games like ours. As usual, I stumbled across the thread while looking for something else. This one I found because they were playing with Stephen Vincent Benet:
Some further specimens:
When Daniel Boone goes by, at night, the phantom deer arise,
and all lost, wild America
is burning in their eyes.
Three guesses who this one’s about:
When John J. Audubon looks up,
the blue jay does not blink,
and when he looks back down again,
the thief lies caught in ink.
Agnew was a man that most
sleek, corrupt and self assured,
and now, thank God, he’s toast.
Francis MarionJust when they had the prey on the run,
their red coats exquisite
under the Carolina sun,
the swamp fox barked—and bit.
Marooned in snow, he used all means to keep himself alive.There are more.
The County held eight Democrats,
and that sumbitch ate five!
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
and Robert Frost, that cranky git,
scratched his chin and stood and stood
until he got a poem from it.
The First Thirteen PresidentsFrom General George to Millard, all
Owned slaves, except for two:
Those Massachusetts liberals
John (senior) and John (Q.).
I’m of the opinion that they should feel encouraged pay a call, or come to tea, or read another thread here that should be to their taste; and in the meantime, we should go over and admire their work.