IV.
This game of love is not my longest suit;
Doping it out has put wheels in my bun.
Just as you think you’ve got the pennant won,
Bum luck will land you on the soapy chute;
You come back hard, but every time you boot
Each chance you get until the game is done;
And when at last you need the tying run,
There ain’t no bleacher bugs to rise and root.
I doped it out the first time that we faced
To warm up good until I got control,
And then to curve a fast one round her waist,
Hoping this way to put her in a hole.
Such was my dope; but, as I’ve said before,
The dope is not what makes the full box score.