FOR AN INDIVIDUAL FOUR PACK
The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the cornhole gang this night.
Nobody threw a four pack. This failure wasn’t right.
Richard missed his third bag, and Kenny did the same.
And Jeff he tried, but Jeff, he failed. He wasn’t on his game.
For Cliff, so sad. He almost cried. He had a poem to read.
But no-one would deserve to win his silly happy deed.
So there we were, in deep despair. And surely hopes would rest
Upon the hopes which spring eternal in the human breast.
Then Jonesy came. And Jonesy stood. And Jonesy threw a bag.
It sailed. It arced. A Nike swoosh. It landed in the scrag.
Then the bags called two and three. They did the very same.
He stood upon the precipice of glory and of fame.
Jones eyed the board. Prayed to his Lord. And launched bag number four.
And don’t ya know. He made it work. Our faith in man restored!
Here’s my two bucks. And Jeff’s and Ken’s. And Richard’s money too.
And maybe other countless dollars. It’s yours because you threw…
Tonight’s first four pack. What a happy moment that you give
To those of us who didn’t want it. Through you we now shall live.