A Trill for Tennis
Now lawn-tennis is beginning, and we’ll set the balls a-spinning
O’er the net and on the greensward with a very careful aim;
You must work, as I’m a sinner, if you wish to prove a winner,
For we’re getting scientific at this fascinating game.
You must know when it is folly to attempt a clever “volley,”
Or to give the ball when “serving” it an aggravating twist;
Though a neatly-made backhander may arouse a rival’s dander,
You’ll remember when you try it that it’s very often missed.
Though your play thrown in the shade is by the prowess of the ladies,
You must take your beating kindly with a smile upon your face;
And ’twill often be the duty of some tennis-playing beauty
To console you by remarking that defeat is not disgrace.
For you doubtless find flirtation at this pleasant occupation
Is as easy as at croquet; when you’re “serving” by her side,
You can hint your tender feeling, all your state of mind revealing,
And, when winning “sets” together, you may find you’ve won a bride.
So we’ll don the flannel jacket, and take out the trusty racket,
And though other folks slay pigeons, we’ll forswear that cruel sport,
And through summer seek a haven on the sward so smoothly shaven,
With the whitened lines en règle for a neat lawn-tennis court.
The Place for Lawn-Tennis.—“Way down in Tennessee.”