Ode to Dinking

Poem from a BAPA member…


I was thinking about dinking,
When I noticed something stinking

But I probably was drinking,
So I chalked it up to that

But if I had a job,
I’d like to learn the lob

And when I give a damn,
There’s nothing like a slam

But why dink around and fiddle,
Just boink it down the middle.

— “The ghost of Rita Rhymenstein”