rTfrwT^7'^'vr'wrw^''wwfqifiWTK^srfBnr'wwmmmmip^i^^mtmm eTx BOOK G i>^ Book__ .L^L_ Copyi!glit]^°____ COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. A LITTLE BOOK OF PING-PONG VERSE THET-IBRARY OF CONGRESS, Two Copies Received jUL. 29 1902 COPyRIQHT ENTRY CVASS Ci^ XXa No. COPY 8. ,^ Copyright^ igo2 By Dana Estes & Company All rights reserved A LITTLE BOOK OF PING-PONG VERSE Published,^ July, 1902 (Tolottfal 3^rfSB Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co, Boston. Mass., U. S. A. T10 (3 l^mie B®^ of Ping-Pong Ver^e Cor\tair\irig also t]\e Coii\plete Rules for Playing tl:\e Popular G-an\e of Table - Termis Ping-Pong for breakfast, Ping-Pong for lunch, Ping-Pong for dinner and tea ; Ping-Pong for always ; and when I'm asleep Ping-Pong, I'm dr^^r[iiqg pf.tjife. Daria Estes S Con\par\y PiXblisliers £5U PREFACE Table-tennis is a game of comparatively recent origin. It is said to have had its birth, though in very different form, in 1881, but it never obtained the name under which it is celebrated by the versifiers of this book until 1900. It is only within the last two years, in fact, that it has attained general popularity. The reasons for the extraordinary vogue of the game are not far to seek : First, although a passable knowledge of its rules is very easily acquired, un- usual skill is necessary in order to play it well. The manual by Arnold Parker, the English champion, with more than one hundred pages devoted to a dis- cussion of half -volley strokes, forehand strokes, back- hand strokes, handicapping, service, etc., suggests that there is more to the game than appears at first. Second, it is inexpensive, and may be enjoyed by many a family that could not afford the luxury of a billiard-table. Then, too, the game furnishes abun- dant exercise, healthful, vigorous, but not overtaxing. Finally, the fact that ladies can play almost if not quite as well as men, figures among the principal reasons of its popularity. PREFACE The verses in this little book make no preten- sions to literary merit. If they are amusing and timely, they serve their end. A large number of newspaper rhymes, below the average maintained by these selections, have been read and discarded. The amount of more or less meritorious verse inspired by this everywhere-popular pastime, is very extensive. If anything of real excellence has been overlooked, no one can regret the fact more than the compiler. The authorized rules for playing follow : . I. The game is for two players. They shall stand one at each end of the table. The player who first delivers the ball shall be called the server, and the other the striker-out. 2. The server shall stand behind the end and within the limits of the width of the table. 3. The service shall be strictly underhand, and from behind the table ; that is to say, at the time of striking the ball, the racquet may not be over the table, and no part of the racquet, except the handle, may be above the waist. 4. The ball served must drop on the table-top beyond the net, and is then in play. If it drops into the net or off the table it is called a " fault," and counts to the striker-out. 5. There is no second service, except when the ball touches the net or posts in passing over and PREFACE drops on the table beyond the net, when it is called a " let," and another service is allowed. 6. If the ball in play strike any object above or around the table before it drops on the table (net or posts excepted), it counts against the striker. 7. The server wins a stroke if the striker-out fails to return the service, or the ball in play. 8. The striker-out wins a stroke if the server serve a "fault," or fails to return the ball in play so that it falls off the table. 9. No volleying is allowed, whether intentional or otherwise, and if any ball shall be touched before striking the table it counts against the player touch- ing it ; should, however, a ball pass the limits of the table without dropping on, it is dead, and counts against the striker. 10. The method of scoring shall be by points, 20 points up constituting a game, the service changing after each five points scored. Should the score reach 19 all, it shall be called "game all," and the best of five points shall decide the game. The object of the game may be stated in a word ; it is to get more points than your opponent. You send the ball over the net upon your opponent's end of the table and the point is yours (i) if, in attempt- ing to return it, he knocks it into the net by too gen- tle a stroke ; (2) if he strikes it too hard, and it not PREFACE only goes over the net, but doesn't land on your end of the table at all ; (3) if you place it so on the end of the table that he is not quick or dexterous enough to get it back. vm CONTENTS PAGE To Celia ii The Ping -Pong Bugle Song . . . , .12 Ping-Pong 13 Her Sad Fate 15 Surfeited . 16 " Crazy 1" ^ ... 17 A Ping-Ponged Poem 19 Sing a Song of Ping-Pong 20 The Ping-Pong Girl 21 Ping-Pong vs. Croquet ...... 22 Ping-Pong . . -25 A Ballade of Ping-Pong .26 After Omar 28 Ping-Pong Down in Maine 29 Ping-Pong. . . . . . . . -31 Ding-Dong Ping-Pong ^3 Pingpongitis 34 Ping-Pong 37 ix CONTENTS PAGE Ping-Pong 38 Only a Ping-Pong Ball 40 Owed to Ping-Pong 42 The Evolution of Ping-Pong 45 The Ping-Pong Poets 47 The Latest Game ....... 49 Hiawatha's Ping-Ponging 50 Ping-Pongomaniacs 54 Fate 56 I'll Never Write . . . . • • -57 Ping-Pong . . -59 Ping-Pong 61 The Ping-Pong Girl. ...... 62 Ping-Pong 65 A Ballade 67 Ping-Pong 69 A Dilemma 71 Ping ! Pong ! 72 Ping, Brothers ! Pong With Care • ... 73 The Ping-Pong Bird 74 Ping-Pong Poetry 76 A Love Score 79 The Ping-Pong Pang 80 A Ping-Pong Sohloquy 81 Ping-Pong 83 A Summer-Time Lament . . . . .86 Table-Tennis-Ovitis 87 The Ping-Pong Ankle 88 All Kinds .90 The Worst of All t .91 X CONTENTS PAGE Ping-Pong Song 92 The Event of the Day 94 Relief at Last "95 Ping-Pong 96 Sharps and Flats ....... 08 Ping-Pong Hurt His Heart on Confession loi Will We Go Back to Tennis? . . . .102 The Rubaiyat of Ping-Pong 104 Ping-Pong. . ' . 108 Pingpongitis no O Temporal O Mores! ii-? Rushes jic The Ravages of Recreation 116 "The Cry of the Children" . . . . • 117 A Revolutionary Rumor . . . . , .119 The Man, the Maid, and the Ping-Pong Ball . 120 Distinction 122 A Ping-Pong Parody . . . . . -123 The Ping-Pong Lover 124 Why Not? 126 Ping-Pong Posers . . . . . . .128 Waste 130 The Ballade of Ping-Pong 131 A Spring Song . . . . . . .133 An Extra- Active Verb 134 The Ponger and the Pingstress ..... 137 Shakespeare Ping-Ponged 138 Ping-Pong . . . . . ... . . 139 Ping-Pong . . .140 xi CONTENTS PAGE Her Game 141 The Yawp of the Ping-Pong 142 Ping-Pong. . 145 The Dreadful Game 147 Ping-Pong in Elf -Land 149 A LITTLE BOOK OF PING-PONG VERSE TO CELIA (With apologies to the shade of Ben Jonson) TDING to me only with thine eyes, And I will pong with mine ; We twain may win the Challenge cup, If ping with pong combine : The craze, that in my soul doth rise, Is doubtless keen in thine ; I'll take the role of pinger up, If thou'lt be pongstress mine. Westminster Gazette. THE PING-PONG BUGLE SONG THE PING-PONG BUGLE SONG /^^RIM portent falls o'er dining-halls, Excited hearts full high are beating ; O quick ! Snatch off the table-cloth Before the folks have done their eating. Ping, Father, ping ! Set the wild echoes ringing ! And pong, Mother ! Answer echoes, ponging, panging, pinging ! O hark, O hear ! How sharp and clear ! As Grand-dad pings across the table ! O faint and far the echoes are, — With Jenkins ponging in the stable. Ping ! 'Tis the cook and eke the housemaid flinging Care to the winds and ponging, panging, pinging ! O Love, it palls, — this chasing balls That hide themselves in dusty places, — While one, alas, flew in the gas. And three knocked over valued vases. Ping ! Is it true that angels, no more singing. With harps for bats, go ponging, panging, pinging ? BuRGEs Johnson. Critic. PING - PONG PING-PONG TT ER dear papa remains up-stairs, Mamma thinks games are stupid.. So down we go where our affairs Are chaperoned by Cupid, To drive a sphere of celluloid Across the Ping-Pong table — O blissful evening thus employed With Mabel ! A noisy game it is, I own ; It makes the players dizzy ; It keeps young Cupid on his throne With love-counts ever busy ; Or « vantage in," or " vantage out," Since it is " Love " begins it, I have no great concern about Who wins it So long as Mabel finds delight In Ping-Pong, there's its glory ! Her parents are removed one flight, And that's another story ; 13 PING - PONG For I intend that she shall hear The story of this songster Who is in love with her, his dear Ping-Pongster. Felix Carmen. Collier's Weekly. 14 HER SAD FATE HER SAD FATE O HE once was the queen of her fashion-crazed set, the fairest young quail in the covey, A picture of beauty and eye-dazzHng style, with eyes most expressively dovey. Her walk was a sweet revelation of grace, a soft, dreamy poem of motion, Her form undulating in willowy curves as smooth as the swells of the ocean. Her hand at the terpsichorean blowouts was sought by the masters of dancing. Her cKng in the dreamy embrace of the waltz they said was just simply entrancing. But now in seclusion she wrestles with pain, a truly disconsolate daughter, Her beautiful suburbs in bandages swathed. The Ping-Pong ankle has got 'er ! Denver Post. IS SURFEITED SURFEITED n^HE wireless telegram has been The subject of much song, And now we think the time is ripe To greet the pingless pong. Judge i6 « CRAZY! CRAZY ! " npHE Street's in a panic — The market went wrong — But father is smiling, He beat at Ping-Pong ! Yes ; snug in his office His broker and he While stocks were all smashing Played sets eighty-three ! Oh ! Mother's been absent For over a week ; We've had of her presence Not even a peek. Her Browning Home Circle Is going it strong, Pursuing a course in Progressive Ping-Pong ! The cook has departed In dudgeon and scorn, Because interfered with At eight in the morn, 17 ''CRAZY!'' To give up the table She'd had the night long, And use it for breakfast Instead of Ping-Pong ! See Grandma and Grandpa, With wrath in their eyes, Close-matched for the octo- Genarian prize How sad their six decades Of honeymoon song Should suffer suspension Through simple Ping-Pong! Dear baby's the idol Amazing the throng ; The champion player Is he at Ping-Pong. In the juvenile tourney He's won every set. And beat all the babies To date he has met ! Edwin L, Sabin. 18 A FING- PONGED POEM A PING-PONGED POEM A S the little ball goes pop- Ping Pong, It keeps you busy hop- Ping Pong, To stop the sphere from drop- Ping Pong Out of sight. You have no time for nap- Ping Pong, But must keep right on rap- Ping Pong The ball as it goes flap- Ping Pong Left and right. F. P. PiTZER. 19 SING A SONG O^ PING-PONG SING A SONG OF PING-PONG " \ IT HE RE are you going, my pretty maid ? " "I'm going ping-ponging, sir," she said. " May I go with you, my pretty maid ? " " Yes, if you hke, kind sir," she said. She led him away to the Ping- Pong net, and then came an hour he'll never forget ; for his shoulders ache from the many stoops to pick up the balls, and his eyelid droops, where she smote him twice with her racquet small, which left her hand as she struck the ball ; and he'll never ping where she pongs again, for she heard him swear when she pinged him then. St. Louis Sportsman. THE PING-PONG GIRL THE PING-PONG GIRL " Tl rHERE are you going, my pretty maid? " "I am going a-ping-ponging, sir," she said. " May I go with you, my pretty maid ? " " You may, if you wish, kind sir," she said. And so, like a martyr, he went along To learn the game that is called Ping-Pong ; With a strong right arm and an easy grace, She batted the ball in his open face ; He heaved a sorrowful, love-lorn sigh As the spherical thing hit him smack in the eye. The maid struck a sort of an Ajax pose And, biff, came the ball on the end of his nose ; The next time it hit him a crack on the head, And then, in a musical voice, she said : " Oh, tell me, kind sir, do you like this game? " " Nit, nit ! " he replied ; " I am sorry I came ! " Boston Post. PING-PONG VS. CROQUET PING-PONG vs. CROQUET r\\SD Colonel Jenkins told his wife one day he really thought To keep abreast of fashion and be up to date they ought To get a Ping-Pong layout; he had read about the same, And thought there was amusement in the fashionable game. His wife gave acquiescence, said the idea was good, And they would be the envy of the whole blamed neighbourhood ; She'd show that painted stuck-up thing next door that her croquet Was but an old back number game that only fossils play. The finest set in Jenkinsville was bought, the printed rules Were studied as the lessons are by kids in country schools, And soon the practice games were on in amateurish way, They showing far more awkwardness than science in the play. 22 PING-PONG VS. CROQUET The stuck-up thing who lived next door could through her window see The games which were a sign, she vowed, of im- becility. And yet a flame of envy burned quite freely in her breast And filled her with a feeling of quite pestering unrest, 'Twas with a grin of ghoulish glee she one day chanced to spy A ball from Mrs. Colonel's side land on the Colonel's eye And saw him send it back again with anger in the hit Right in her teeth and break the plate and cut her lip a bit. Then Mrs. Colonel's racquet flew across the table and Upon the Colonel's larboard ear did violently land, And in the mix-up that ensued the language pro and con Was shocking to the neighbors' ears, who all were catching on ! Of course the action for divorce created quite a stir, Some laying all the blame on him, some laying it on her; 23 PING-PONG VS. CROQUET And underneath their active tongues the village gossips rolled The precious morsel as if it were ball of purest gold. The Colonel is a wanderer now, has jumped the town for good, His recent helpmate languishes in grass of widow- hood. And often through the window peeps to see that stuck-up thing Manipulate the croquet balls that neither pong nor ping. Denver Post. 24 PING'FONG PING-PONG T O ! the Ping- Pong craze is booming, Parlour creatures pirouette, Prancing in fantastic measure, Pallid plungers at th'^ net. Patiently we sit and suffer, Longing for the peaceful shore, Where the pingers cease from ponging And the pongers ping no more. George T. Pardy. Chicago Inter- Ocean. 25 A BALLADE OF PING-PONG A BALLADE OF PING-PONG T N grandma's day the minuet They danced with sprightly lissomeness — Slim maiden figures quaintly set In stomacher and brocade dress. Knee breeches bowed to chestnut tress Politely all the gay night long ; They aimed at courtly gracefulness — But nowadays we play Ping-Pong. In mamma's day the etiquette On croquet laid especial stress. And madame twirled her French mallette In sprigged lawn — hooped self -consciousness ! 'Twas ladylike to feign distress Whene'er the ball went rolling wrong, And all was quiet gentleness ; But nowadays we play Ping-Pong. 'Twould seem that Pierrot and Pierrette Are here with all their foolishness ; For links are being billed " To Let," While golf sticks warp in idleness. 26 A BALLADE OF FING-PONG The chaperons fight sleepiness, While billiard-rooms to girls belong. Ah, might the old times come to bless ! But nowadays we play Ping-Pong. l'envoi Dame Fashion, stern and merciless, You rule us with a leaden thong ; But I will shamelessly confess I spurn allegiance to Ping-Pong. Emma L. Macalarney. Munsefs Magazine. 27 AFTER OMAR AFTER OMAR C INCE the active-minded golfers have gotten up a golfers' Omar, why not a Ping-Pong edition, with a verse like this : Ping ! whilst the angry maid in hasty flight Has swept the table clear, from left to right, And leaves the room to those who come to pong And ping it through the lively, livelong night. Or this : A polished table 'neath the chandelier, A vellum bat, a ball and you quite near Beside me pinging in the dining-room, The dining-room were paradise, my dear ! Philadelphia Press. 28 J PING-PONG DOWN IN MAINE PING-PONG DOWN IN MAINE IM HIGGINS lives in Dixmont, he thinks he knows a heap ; You'll often find him prowling while his neighbors are asleep. He's awful interested in everything that's new, An' when they started Ping-Pong, Jim he started tew. You'd oughter see him Ping-Pong in that new-fangled style, It makes the young folks snicker, an it makes our deacon smile ; When Jim he gits excited an' rushes rite along, He often gits things muddled, an' he can't tell ping from pong. His hair is long an' bushy, an' he's way off in style; When he tramps aroun' in Bangor he makes the young folks smile, But Jim don't care a tinker, he hipers rite along, He's so mighty interested in that new game Ping- Pong. 29 PING-PONG DOWN IN MAINE When Jim gits down tew business his head is pritty clear, He never gits it muddled with whiskey, gin, or beer, He wants us all tew understand that he jus' knows it all. Of all the qualities he lacks, he never lacks for gall. When Jim starts in tew Ping-Pong you'll find all of us there, We make all such occasions a family affair. From the highways an' the byways we'll bundle rite along, Tew see Jim Higgins nockerlate, with that new game Ping-Pong. You'd oughter see him Ping-Pong in that new-fangled style. It makes the young folks giggle, an' it makes our deacon smile ; When Jim he gits excited an' rushes rite along, He allers gits things muddled, an' he can't tell ping from pong. A. M. T. New York Sun. 30 PING - FONG PING-PONG npHE steamer's ropes were hardly down, When I called up to tourist Brown : " What's the news from London town ? " And he answered with a frown : " Ping-Pong ! Ping-Pong ! " " How about the Parliament? Are the Liberals content ? Is Chamberlain as eloquent? " And he thundered (violent) : " Ping-Pong ! Ping-Pong ! " " Tut ! tut ! " says I, " there's something more, News of more import, I'm sure ; How about the wily Boer ? " And the dock took up his roar : « Ping-Pong ! Ping-Pong ! " The name was ringing through my brain, But still I thought I'd try again; " How about King Edward's reign ? " And he shrieked (almost profane) : " Ping-Pong ! Ping-Pong ! " PING - PONG That's all the news'' (he frowned severe) From Kentish town to Wandsworth pier ; It's all you see and all you hear ; " And then Brown whooped it in my ear : " Ping-Pong ! Ping-Pong ! " Canadian Bookseller. 32 DING-DONG PING-PONG DING-DONG PING-PONG O HARP and piercing is the ring As the sphere on eggshell wing From the racquet flies in Ping- Pong. Hollow, mellow is its song As it Hghtly bounds along On the table court in Pong- Ping. And the poets, wearying. Hunt up rhymes for " pong " and " ping " For their never ending sing song. Catholic Standard and Times. ZZ PINGPONGITIS PINGPONGITIS /^H, what's this very funny game Pray tell me, if you please, That looks like tennis, feels Hke golf, And sounds like Cantonese, — That occupies the billiard-room And makes the welkin ring ? — Why, that's the game That's known to fame As Ping-Pong, Ping-Pong, Ping, Pong, Ping. CHORUS Sing a song of Ping-Pong, chasing after balls, Crawling under furniture — oh, give me Overalls! The dame of rank grows hot and dank With exercising hard ; The stately virtue of repose No more is on the card ; E'en grandpa swings the racquet high Where balls are on the wing — 34 PINGPONGITIS For that's the game That's known to fame As Ping-Pong, Ping-Pong, Ping, Pong, Ping. CHORUS Sing a song of Ping-Pong, played with ball and racque, Breaking records, furniture, glass, and bric-a-brac. Will you call on Friday night And ping with me a pong ? Wear a bathing suit and bring A fencing-mask along — Better train and be prepared For any sort of thing. We'll play the game That's known to fame As Ping-Pong, Ping-Pong, Ping, Pong, Ping. CHORUS Sing a song of Ping-Pong — better take a try. There's your rival — now's your chance to hit him in the eye ! 35 PINGPONGITIS No more the Scotch disease of golf The microbe's fond delight is ; The epidemic now in vogue Is mania pingpongitis. Oh, quarantine and vaccinate This blight whereof I sing, For 'tis the game That's known to fame As Ping-Pong, Ping-Pong, Ping, Pong, Ping. CHORUS Sing a song of Ping-Pong, raging through the town. O doctor, give me chloroform ere I am taken down ! Wallace Irwin. News-Letter. 36 PING - PONG PING-PONG /^H, the game is very silly, But you like it, willy-nilly. It is dashing — Balls are flashing — When Ping-Pong's played. Oh, the laughter and the chatter. As the ball goes pitter-patter. Oh, the twirling And the hurling, When Ping-Pong's played. All the lassies' cheeks are ruddy, On a jump is everybody. Hearts are beating Love's sweet greeting. When Ping-Pong's played. Roland Lewis Ja^es. Brooklyn Eagle. Zl PING ■ PONG PING-PONG 'T*HEY stood at a table on which was a string Of network the table's breadth long, Over which a small ball, racquet-driven, went " ping " And returned with a resonant " pong." She was lovely and young — quite an exquisite thing ; He was handsome and stalwart and strong. It is needless to add that her racquet went " ping " While he served with the resonant " pong." Untiring they played and the hours took wing. The butler had beaten the gong, But, dinner despite, she continued to " ping " And he likewise continued to " pong." There was " love " in his score, but he felt it no sting And her play pretty often was wrong. When her eyes met his she neglected to " ping " And he vainly endeavored to " pong." Surely you know the rest, so I might as well bring To an end this melodious song. 38 i i PING ' PONG It was " game " — lost or won by her delicate " ping " Counter-checking his blundering " pong." For his arms clasped her form in a close-gripping ring — By good luck they were far from the throng — And a sound broke the stillness beginning like " ping " And ending in something like " pong." Chicago News. 39 ONLY A PING-PONG BALL ONLY A PING-PONG BALL T_T OW does the nimble little ball Enjoy each " ping " and " pong ! " It also loves to take a fall And roll the floor along ; 'Twill lead you then a merry race, As any maiden coy, And should it find a hiding-place, It hugs itself with joy. You grope about upon the floor, And push the chairs aside ; You mark the ball behind the door And throw it open wide ; You catch a glimpse of shiny white, A moment — but too late ! Before your hand is on it quite, It runs beneath the grate. You grasp the poker, push below The fender, all in vain ; The little sphere is lying low Beneath the lounge again ! 40 ONLY A PING-PONG BALL Meanwhile, the dust is in your eyes, And also makes you sneeze ; But worse ! the trousers most you prize Are bagging at the knees ! Then some one cries, " Oh, Mister Brown ! You spoilt my last return ! " You gulp your rising anger down, Exhibit no concern ; But as at last you win the ball. And no one tenders thanks, You find your way into the hall, And fill the air with — blanks ! Thomas Dykes Beasley. San Francisco Examiner. 41 OWED TO PING-PONG OWED TO PING-PONG (With the customary apologies to the shades of the late Mr. Poe) OEE the pongster with his ping — •^ Hateful thing ! O, what staccato echoes are awakened by its twing ; How it rattles and it clatters on the frantic Air of night ; How you smite In delight, And you swear its fascination overcomes you — O, yes, quite, — (If the buttons of your trousers have been sewed on Good and tight,) And you mustn't show emotion by a look or by Complaint If they ain't. You must play, play, play in a manner blithe and gay, Striving never to lean over lest the whole thing Give away with a Ping pong pang pung, Pynge pongue pangue pungue, — With a pinging and a panging of the pong. 42 OWED TO PING-PONG See the pingstress with her racquet Hit the 'fenceless ball and smack it, — How she whacks it and she thwacks it; Also slams and bangs and cracks it ; TiU she swats you in the peeper and Unfortunately blacks it ! And the handsome dinner-table Is defaced most re-mark-able, While the buffet and the chairs, — O, that buffet and those chairs. Where the horrid little sphere Finds a dozen dusty lairs, Where it lurks, where it lurks, And despiseth all your prayers, All your coaxings, And your smirks. Till you mutter furtive swears At this demon and his works, — At this gutta-percha demon, and his diabolic works, Of the Ping, pong, etc. Hear the pongster with his pong All day long. And till the midnight air is burdened with its Irritating song, — How you dive beneath the table in your maddening 43 OWED TO PING-PONG Pursuit for the ball, How you root, Till you overturn the table, and the Pingstress cries : « You brute ! " Then you rush from the crush To the quiet soothing hush Of your room. And you ponder in the gloom, And you dream, — O, you dream, And you scream, For the phantom pongsters seem To be playing on your chest, In their pingful pongful zest, — Lack-a-day you have no rest From the Ping pong pung, etc. H. R. G. Baltimore News. 44 THE EVOLUTION OF PING-PONG THE EVOLUTION OF PING-PONG "PXHIBIT A, a stadium, Where youths, inadequately dressed, A loaded cestus on each fist, Pounded each other, face and chest. They called that boxing. Then, perhaps, They'd run a thousand yards or so. They jumped. They wrestled, no holds barred. They did the twelve-pound discus throw. And for a prize, the victor wore Two laurel sprigs, or maybe three, For this was gentlemanly sport In seven twenty-four B. C. Exhibit B, a tilting yard. Where men in courtly manners versed Disguised themselves as ironclads. And ran each other down, head first. To push Sir Johndoe from his horse Each gentle knight his best assayed. Such was the object of the game. And strenuously was it played. He of the stoutest lance might win His lady's glove, or scarf, or shoe, 45 THE EVOLUTION OF PING-PONG For this was gentlemanly sport, In fourteen hundred twenty-two. Exhibit C, a drawing-room, Where wild-eyed men in evening clothes Tap fiercely at a small white ball And, missing, mutter gentle oaths. Racquets the size of coffee-spoons, A table and a three-inch net. Fair maidens by to watch the play, And there you have a Ping-Pong set. Medals, for this, and silver cups We feel are but the victor's due, For this is gentlemanly sport. Of A. D. Nineteen hundred two. Philip L. Allen. Frank Leslie's Popular Monthly. 46 THE PING-PONG POETS THE PING-PONG POETS A H Poetry ! Thy form I see All mangled by the throng That warbles into ecstasy About the game Ping-Pong. No more the noble, stately muse Can love of Nature bring ; No more the raptured poets use The tender themes of Spring. The hawthorn-tree is all aglow With blossoms pinkish red, But the poets do not seem to know — They write Ping-Pong instead. The violet has bloomed in vain ; The poppy's blaze is dim ; No rhymster nowadays is sane, Life's all Ping-Pong to him. What charm has now the linnet's voice ? What joy the bluebird's song ? No more in these the bards rejoice ; They only sing Ping-Pong. 47 THE PING-PONG POETS The poets once were " fired with zeal," As I've heard preachers say ; The Ping-Pong poet tribe, I feel, Should all be fired that way. Give not the sordid prize ^ to me — The ten in cash, I mean — Competing for a poet's fee My muse will ne'er be seen. But if by any chance it seem That some prize I should get, I must confess my fondest dream Is just a Ping-Pong set. There's more I'd write on this queer fad Of poets all gone wrong ; To scourge these rhymsters I'd be glad, But I must play Ping-Pong. Thomas Nunan. San Francisco Examiner. *The San Francisco Examiner offered a cash prize of $10.00 for the best poem on the subject of Ping-Pong. Nearly one thousand manuscripts were submitted in competition. 48 A THE LATEST GAME THE LATEST GAME "^ OW Gladys with her lovely eyes, And Phyllis with her art, Between them o'er the silken net Play Ping-Pong with my heart. Judge. 49 HI A WA THA 'S PING - PONGING HIAWATHA'S PING -PONGING TT lAWATHA hurried homeward, Galloped homeward from the city, Hurried homeward with a package, A neat package that he carried, And at last, before his tepee, Yelled : " Oh, Minnie — Minnehaha, Come and see what papa's brought you - Brought to you back from the city. From the gay haunts of the paleface." Out came smiling Minnehaha, Wearing an old pair of slippers That she'd found upon a scrap-heap, Also wearing a red bathrobe That some fat man had discarded. Hiawatha with his jack-knife Cut the string and ripped the paper And took out the Httle paddles And some balls that lightly bounded And a little net and told her Of the splendid game of Ping-Pong, Told her how the proud white people, 50 HI A WA THA 'S PING - PONGING The gay people in the city, Played it till their clothes got soggy, Till their backs ached and their muscles Got all knotted up and tangled. Minnehaha poked fun at him As he fixed up an old barn door On two stumps behind the tepee. " This," she said, " may do for children, But shall noble Hiawatha, Shall my tall and handsome warrior Monkey with these little paddles ? Shall the buck who slays the panther And who calmly chokes the wildcat Fool with such a game as this is ? " " Never mind," said Hiawatha ; " Take your paddle and get ready." Then he swiftly served a twister. And the ball, in bouncing, struck her On the nose and made it tingle. " Here," she hollered, " try it over, And I'll knock it through the tree tops, I will send it through the rushes, And across the soughing sedges. So blamed far you'll never find it." HI A WA THA 'S PING - PONGING Hiawatha served it swiftly, And the gentle Minnehaha Tripped upon her old red bathrobe, Stepped upon a trailing corner, In her eagerness, her hurry, Tripped and turned an airy flip-flap, Rose up in the circumambient Atmosphere and lost a slipper — Rose and yelled for Hiawatha To be kind enough to stop her, Rose, and, with her red robe waving Like a frightful danger signal. Turned a time or two on nothing, And then landed in a puddle Where the tadpoles loved to frolic. Hiawatha, the tall warrior, Rushed around and bent above her, Crying : " Here, my Minnehaha, Here I am — I've come to help you." Up she rose and out she waded. Saying things to him in Injun That, alas ! cannot be printed ; And she grabbed the net and tore it Into more than sixty pieces ; She knocked down the door and smashed it. 52 HI A WA THA 'S PING - PONGING And then grabbed a Ping-Pong paddle And went after Hiawatha. Here and there he hurried, dodging Things she grabbed up and threw at him, And she called him names and told him That she'd make him when she caught him Curse the man who had invented The infernal game of Ping-Pong. Chicago Record-Herald. 53 PING - PONGOMANIA CS PING - PONGOMANIACS A NOTHER craze has struck the earth, another toney fad O'er which the monkey doodle ranks have gone stark, staring mad, The pinging of the ball against the racquet's drummy hide Is answered by the ponging when it hits the other side. Around the tables group the slaves of this new fol-de- rol To watch the flying antics of the cunning httle ball As it is batted to and fro with many skilful whacks By victims of the new disease — Ping-Pong-omaniacs. Progressive euchre now is but a 'way back number game, Bridge whist, the one-time favorite, no longer basks in fame, The fascinating game of draw, once played upon the sly By stately dames for nickel chips, has been con- demned to die. 54 PING - PONGOMANIA CS All sorts of sports that once were held in social love, alas ! Must go 'way back and seat themselves ; they're in the has-been class, For now the gilded parlors »in the fashionable shacks Are filled with poor demented folk — Ping-Pong- omaniacs. The millionaire, so money proud, the nabobs of the banks, The Congressmen and notables of high official ranks, The ministers who fit their talk to fashionable ears, The hogs who grunt at head of trusts, the scheming financiers. The gay-gowned dames of fashion's set who lead the social swim, The belles in tailor-made attire with figures built so trim, Upon the olden parlor sports have turned their toney backs. And now are poor unfortunate Ping-Pong-omaniacs. Denver Post. 55 FATE FATE (With the necessary apologies) n^WO shall be born the whole wide world apart, And speak in different tongues and have no thought Each of the other's being, and no heed ; And these o'er unknown seas to unknown lands Shall cross, escaping wreck, defying death, And all unconsciously shape every act And bend each wandering step to this one end — That one day at the table they shall meet And bang the Ping-Pong ball across the net. Chicago Record-Herald. 56 I'LL NEVER WRITE I'LL NEVER WRITE T 'VE often written trifling verse On foolisli themes or fancies light ; Better it might have been — or worse — Its merit, like its matter, slight. But I abjure all hackneyed, trite, Or obvious subjects for my song ; Of fashion's fads I won't indite ; I'll never write about Ping-Pong ! The growing habit I asperse. For not a paper meets my sight But Ping-Pong's praises 'twill rehearse In doggerel, till I'm sickened quite. My anger rises to its height ; I will not join the twaddling throng And on my record caet a blight ; I'll never write about Ping-Pong ! Though 'twould put money in my purse, (And I am in most needy plight), My Pegasus I can't coerce To start on such unworthy flight. 57 I'LL NEVER WRITE Though I've ideas new and bright, My resolution is so strong, E'en should an editor invite, I'll never write about Ping-Pong ! ENVOI Reader, I play from morn till night ; I'm Ping-Pong's slave, or right or wrong ; So, since I have no time to write, I'll never write about Ping-Pong ! Carolyn Wells. Life. \ S8 PING-PONG PING-PONG ■Y\7'HO cares to play at cricket, Who cares to kick a ball, To suffer hacks at hockey Or chance a nasty fall ? Far better don your slippers, Enjoy your cigarette. Play Ping-Pong in the parlor Across a little net. In cycling there are tumbles, And puncturable tires ; And if you hunt, perhaps you court A cropper on the wires. In rowing there are blisters That possibly may chafe. But Ping-Pong in the parlor Is absolutely safe. The river has its dangers. The picnic has its snares. The motor car may run away Or butt you unawares. 59 PING - PONG It is a consolation No parent will deny- That Ping-Pong in the parlor Would never hurt a fly. Our prowess in athletics May pass to other lands And later generations see Our cups in foreign hands ; Yet still the might of England Shall everywhere be known — At Ping-Pong in the parlor Our sons shall hold their own. Then twirl your tiny racquets, And pat your celluloid ; Be careful that your quick returns The coffee cups avoid. Flick hard, ye men of sinew, And pirouette in style ! The ladies of the parlor Are watching all the while. Westminster Gazette. 60 PING - PONG PING-PONG A YOUTH there was who pinged full well, A maid who ponged for sure — So steadily they played one day While Cupid kept the score. He toss'd the ball ; she sent it back — Then suddenly gasped he : "Will you be," ping, "my bride, my own?" " I will, my love ! " ponged she. Forthwith they hied them to the church, The sexton tolled the bell. Ping-Pong, Ping-Pong, it seemed to say, As each note rose and fell. And now this model citizen Lolls in his chair at ease, While near him sits his little wife. Her first-born on her knees. She gently rocks the babe to sleep, And hugs it warm and strong, Still softly crooning to herself, Ping-Pong, Ping-Pong — Ping — Pong. C. A. B. Montreal Herald. 6i A THE PING-PONG GIRL THE PING-PONG GIRL T N the days of Aunt Maria They played with a shuttlecock, And made it soar with a battledore And a diffident feminine knock. But now the Ping-Pong banner Is the one that we all unfurl, For she plays in a fetching manner — The paragon Ping-Pong girl. j It's good for the indigestion, And certainly it deserves ' All credit due as something new That's good for delicate nerves ; And after a cheerful dinner, With a fairly festive throng, Then either a saint or sinner Is glad to play Ping-Pong. For Ping-Pong has an advantage That few other games can show, It displays the charms of shapely arms, In a bodice cut fairly low ; 62 THE PING-PONG GIRL And a girl who is jimp and slender Can bet on looking her best When she enters as a contender In the popular Ping-Pong test. Then play with your Aunt Maria, And play with your Cousin Jane ; You may beat the " Spin," let the pretty girl win, If you want her to play again ! For she'd be very apt to " hate yer," Since to lose is a thing that stings, And there's plenty of human nature In the heart of the girl that " pings." It's certainly better in one way Than baccarat, bridge, or loo, For it's good for the health ; and as for wealth Why, it's good for the pocket, too ; Since you never get caught in the network Of the innocent Ping-Pong nets, And you'll do no harassing "fret-work" Over plaguing Ping-Pong debts. Then play all day at Ping-Pong (Don't bother about the name, THE PING-PONG GIRL Which suggests " jim-jams " and " diddle- diddle-dams," But it gets there just the same !) So choose a becoming bodice (That's a most important thing), And you'll be proclaimed as goddess Of the paragon girls who " ping." Buffalo Evening News, 64 PING-PONG PING-PONG piNG-Pong Is what? Great Scott ! Better ask, what not? Here — there, Everywhere, Tick — tack Over — back. Click clock — Another knock. No score, On the floor, Under the table, Are you able To turn and twist Like a contortionist? Bat it — biff! Just a whiff, There — where ? In the air — Oh, my — In the eye ! Down again — 65 PING-PONG Crawl — sprawl Let it fall — Prance — dance, Jump — hump, Twist your wrist — Tip — tap — Snippitty snap. Never stop Pop — pop — Now you know, Sure enough. It's hot stuff — Red hot — Gee whiz ! That's what Ping-Pong is ! Kate Masterson. ^6 A BALLADE A BALLADE A 17" HAT words are these from the open door ? Hush, my child, 'tis the ball on the floor. What howls are these in the stilly night ? Hush, my child, 'tis a bitter fight, Your sire wars with his frantic wife, Hear the horrid clangor of awful strife. Hear the shrieks of rage and the words of shame, 'Tis papa and mamma and the Ping-Pong game. What thud is that — and what awful crash? 'Tis the pendant Lowestaff gone to smash. What flash is that — and what frightful roar ? 'Tis your grandsire's timepiece, alas no more. And the lamp-shades fall with fearful din. And your father's talk is a grievous sin. And your mother's eyes are alight with flame, As she beats papa at the Ping-Pong game. Is it earthquake or festive dynamite ? 'Twas your father's fall — and he is not light. Volcanic eruption? Nay, not so, 'Tis your father's words neither soft nor low, €>7 A BALLADE And the table's wrecked and the carpet ripped, You can see the slash where your sire tripped, And your mother faints in a mist of fame, She has waxed papa at the Ping-Pong game. R. F. Andrews. Waterbury American. 68 PING - PONG PING-PONG VI /"E are playing table tennis — Nay, I'm wrong — Ping-Pong — And my name will soon be Dennis — (Sound the gong !) Ping-Pong ! We've a net across the table, And the place resembles Babel, Stand the din I won't be able Very long, Ping-Pong. We have smashed the chandelier — Blows are strong — Ping-Pong. And the cat — no more we see her — Sing " Ding-dong " — Ping-Pong. She is drowned without a doubt, sir, For she knows what she's about, sir. Tommy Stout can't pull her out, sir. As in song. Ping-Pong. So I'm cussing table tennis. 69 w^ PING - PONG Is it wrong ? Ping-Pong. And I know my name is Dennis, Good and strong. Ping-Pong. I could burn the blooming racquet ! If I lost it would I track it ? Oh, most cheerfully I'd pack it To Hong Kong. Ping-Pong. Grif Alexander. Pittsburg Dispatch. 10 A DILEMMA A DILEMMA T^HE Ping-Pong ankle is an ill That's come in with the game ; And all the lady players will, 'Tis said, contract the same. But how shall they who do not play. Not seeing, surely know it? And the afflicted — how shall they In modesty e'er show it ? Columbus Evetiing Dispatch. 71 J PING! PONG! PING! PONG! ''piNGI Pong! Ping I Pong! All the night and all day long, Ping! Pong! Ping! Pong! Serve it swift and swat it strong." New York Smi. 72 PING, BROTHERS I PONG WITH CARE! PING, BROTHERS! PONG WITH CARE! ■piNG, brothers ! Pong with care, Pong outdoors in the open air. A Ping- Pong ball of celluloid fair, A Ping-Pong net, of posts a pair, Two Ping-Pong bats of white wood rare. It's Ping-Pong here and Ping-Pong there. They're playing Ping-Pong everywhere. Ping-Pong sets are free as air, So ping, brothers ! Pong with care. Anon. 73 THE PING-PONG BIRD THE PING-PONG BIRD 'y HERE'S an awful creature that flies by night, Seeking the gas or candle light, Bumping and banging here and there, Under the table, behind the chair. Oyer the sideboard, against the wall, Down the dumb-waiter, into the hall, Backward and forward, to and fro, Upward and downward, fast and slow. In every household in every town. People hasten to hunt it down. Father, mother and Uncle Ned, Sister, brother and little Ted, Aunt Maria and Cousin Sue, Doctor Boneset — the minister, too — All are striving with might and main. Tired muscles and weary brain. Gasping, panting and short of breath. Staggering, stamping, done to death — All the evening and half the night — Waging a helpless, hopeless fight. Urging others to join the hunt. Hearts of granite and feelings blunt. 74 i THE PING-PONG BIRD Duty, service and work forgot — Dusty, thirsty, disheveled, hot — Chasing the creature — rapt, intent — Sore and suffering, weary, bent. While over the stricken land is heard The horrid hoot of the Ping-Pong bird. Frederick White. 75 PING-PONG POETRY PING-PONG POETRY ■pvELIGHTFUL game, With unctuous name, Ping-Pong — The same. What joyous sound, With every bound The ball goes Ping. Delicious thing, And then goes Pong. My soul be calm. Mellifluous Ping, Melodious Pong; Be calm, oh, soul, Be calm. From Maf eking We hear the Ping, From far Hong Kong Come sounds of Pong ; From Rome to Guam Steals now Ping-Pong, 76 PING-PONG POETRY As soft as any Angel's psalm — My ruffled soul's Sweet balm — Ping-Pong. I know the angels Love to play Ping^Pong All day ; On some soft cloud Ping-Pong's allowed, Where afternoons Sweet seraphs all Can pat The opalescent ball ; They know a thing Or two of Ping; You bet they're on To Pong. It's dull below, I want to go, I want to shirk And work, And die And fly Far in the sky, n PING-PONG POETRY And play, all day, Ping-Pong ; Oh, say, St. Peter, say Where lies the way, Where I can play Ping-Pong Alway ? " Correct," Says Pete, " Just stir your feet Up this gold street. And when you hear Some joyful sounds Go in; You've struck the Ping-Pong Grounds." 'Nu£f said, I'm dead ; No weeps in ours — Cut out the flowers ; I'm on the wing For Ping= So long For Pong. Spokane Chronicle. 78 A LOVE SCORE A LOVE SCORE TITHEN Clari belle and I at Ping-Pong play, So skilfully the racquet she doth wield That to her skill my lack of it must yield, And all that I can score is " Love " alway. Then to the little god of Love I pray : " Let her not, conquering me, seek some new field, Nor guess that I have thrown each game away Just to hear her say ' Love ' ten times a day." And, when to Cupid I had thus appealed, She laughed at me and guyed my want of skill And said : " The game's ' Love-Forty ! ' Nearly done ! " Ah ! she would gain a greater vict'ry still If she would change " Love-Forty " to " Love-One ! " Let her do this and, sure as Pm a sinner, Though my score be but " Love," PU prove a winner. New York World. 79 THE PING-PONG PANG THE PING-PONG PANG C AY, have you felt the Ping-Pong pang That takes you at the knee Or ankle joint, and swells it up Until you say, " Oh, gee ! " It doesn't hurt so much as swell; But no one wants his limb To look like that no more than He wants to have it slim. The doctor's helpless in the case, Because he doesn't know. As yet, exactly what it is That makes it swell up so. Therefore, Ping-Pongers, please restrain. Your wild, impetuous bang, Lest it should happen that you get The dreadful Ping-Pong pang. W. J. Lampton. New York Herald. 80 A PING-PONG SOLILOQUY A PING-PONG SOLILOQUY npO Ping, or not to Ping — that is the question; Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous pongsters, Or by engaging, end them ? To ping — to pong - To bat the ball across the gleaming board ; To end the constant questions of the crowd Who gaily poise the racket in the hand And ask us why we do not take a part, Or if we fear the strenuosity Which cometh with the action of the game? 'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished. To Ping — to Pong — to Pung ! Perchance to pang ! Aye, there's the rub ! For in that Pingful Ponging of the sport What pangs may come ? What wrenching of the shoulder-blades ? What bruising of the knuckles and the wrists ? What agonizing backache from the stoops, The twists, the leaps, the lurches, And the never-ending bendings of the work ? To smile with joyous countenance, forsooth, Well-knowing that but at the last wild dive 8i A PING-PONG SOLILOQUY A villainous suspender button burst its leash And clattered wickedly against the wall, Caroming viciously upon the floor, And clanging resonantly on the boards, Apprising all who heard and all who saw That we are but a bachelor, who pins his faith to buttons That are pinned in turn By aid of shingle nail or piece of wire ? Who would racquets bear? To groan and sweat beneath the weary gait That setteth paces for the ones who play, But for the dread of being known As something out-of-date, behind the times — As one who lingers sadly in that bourne from which No traveler returns — the realm of the passe — Or else, forsooth, that he is much too fat To spread his spryness to the world ? Ah, yes ! It is this dread — this fear Of manifesting our obesity That makes us bear the evils that we know, And rank among the ones who but look on, Than fly to those we know not of ! Thus fatness doth make cowards of us all, And cause us fear the pangful game of Ping-Pong ! Baltimore American. 82 PING - PONG PING-PONG HTHE shades of night were falling fast As through a London suburb passed A youth who bore a worried look, And muttered as his way he took — " Ping-Pong ! " His brow was sad, his eye, annoyed, Flashed like a globe of celluloid ; And like a wooden racquet rung The accents from his weary tongue — " Ping-Pong ! " In happy homes he saw a blight, Their " household fires " were out of sight. For where the glacial globules shone They'd quite forgot to put coals on — « Ping-Pong ! " " Try not to serve," the old man said, " Dark lower's a failure on your head ; The chiffonier is yawning wide," But still his weary voice replied — " Ping-Pong ! " 83 PING-PONG " Oh, stay," the maiden said, " and rest, While for the ball we go make quest ! " A glare lit up his frenzied eye ; " There's plenty more left," was his sigh — " Ping-Pong ! " " Beware the volley mad and rash, Beware the awful, cunning ' smash,' " This was the p'liceman's last good-night, A voice replied through the lamplight — « Ping-Pong ! " At break of day, as on his beat, A constable in Oxford Street Muttered for six o'clock a pray'r, A voice rang on the silent air — " Ping-Pong ! " A traveler, prostrate on the ground. Somewhere in Camden Town was found, Still clinging to a racquet fast And wildly murmuring to the last — ' " Ping-Pong ! " There in the morning cold and gray. Brainless yet beautiful he lay; 84 PING - PONG And fell a voice on him from far, " Good Lord, what asses some folks are 1 " « Ping-Pong ! " Clifton Bingham. The Sketch. 85 A SUMMER-TIME LAMENT A SUMMER-TIME LAMENT 'ITW'HEN the days were cold and snowy, When the winds were chill and blowy. Sweetheart, you and I would play All the livelong winter's day At Ping-Pong. How that ball of bubble lightness Flitted back and forth in brightness. Those were days without a care, Playing, sweetheart, with you there At Ping-Pong. But now the leaves are on the trees, And fanned by some sweet southern breeze. The proper thing to do, 'tis said. Is play at tennis now instead Of Ping-Pong. Alas, the racquet and the net And balls and things that I forget Cost so much, love, that we must fain Await the frost and play again At Ping-Pong. Omaha World-Herald. 86 TABLE- TENNIS- OVITIS TABLE - TENNIS - OVITIS T F still your chief delight it is In a " smart " Ping-Ponging set, If with ardor that not slight is You that pastime still abet : There's a new disease in " itis," Which you ought at once to get — It is tenosynovitis — Do you think you've had it yet ? If your left leg or your right is Prone to aching, don't you know, When a tussle at its height is And your body's weight you throw On your " pedal arch," your plight is In effect quite comme ilfaut: Yes ! you've tenosynovitis^ If you'll only call it so ! London Truth. 87 THE PING-PONG ANKLE THE PING-PONG ANKLE A ND now the Ping-Pong ankle Is scaring faddists gay Who gather round the table And there Ping-Pong away, 'Tis latest of the ailments That fads have brought about, And those who've been against it Say it's as bad as gout. We've had the golfing shoulder, We've had the biking back. We've had the tennis elbow And other ills that rack, But worse than all the others That fads have brought along Is this queer ankle trouble Connected with Ping-Pong. It twists the nerves and muscles Concealed in players' shins And spoils the curves of beauty In fairest sets of pins. 88 THE PING-PONG ANKLE It swells the neatest ankles That e'er made owner vain, And when they're thus expanded It loads them up with pain. Among the English faddists This ailment first appeared, And soon a lot of players Were by it badly queered. 'Twas hoped that Yankee ankles Would not be thus made lame, But on this side the trouble Is spreading with the game. Now, if our fair Ping-Pongers Must thus afflicted be. There's one sure plan of action On which we'll al^. agree. We want neat Yankee ankles. Of that there's not a doubt. And if their curves are threatened. We'll just cut Ping-Pong out. Pittsburg Chronicle-Telegraph, 89 ALL KINDS ALL KINDS 'T^HIS life is nothing but a game: Such is the poet's sing-song. Sometimes it is like checkers, tame, And sometimes brisk — like Ping-Pong i Washington Star. 90 THE WORST OF ALL THE WORST OF ALL npHE Ping-Pong wrist is but one ill ; The Ping-Pong face, too well we know it ; But please, oh, please, won't some one kill The puling, punning Ping-Pong poet ! Philadelphia Record. 91 PING-PONG SONG PING-PONG SONG /^H, listen to the pinging of the pong, pong, pong. In my ears there is a ringing like a gong, gong, gong. Everybody's got the craze, and they're spending all their days, With the pinging, pinging, pinging of the pong, pong, pong. And when they get excited they won't even stop for lunch. But take a little bracer in a Ping-Ping Punch. Oh, it's got 'em all a-going, and their medals they are showing, With the pinging, pinging, pinging of the pong, pong, pong. Our lives are very strenuous with this violent exer- cise. As we're striving for a medal or a Ping-Pong prize. And our muscles are immense and our sufferings intense, With the pinging, pinging, pinging of the pong, pong, pong. 92 PING-PONG SONG Now the men all have their " rackets " in the house most every night. Bric-a-brac's knocked off the brackets when the game gets good and tight. And we linger round the table just as long as we are able, With the pinging, pinging, pinging of the pong, pong, pong. C. R. Kelly. San Francisco Examiner. 93 THE EVENT OF THE DAY THE EVENT OF THE DAY IT ARK! It is the dinner gong — Sweet song That sounds its echoing boom. Mark The guests, how now they throng Headlong Into the dining-room. To dine, you say ? Oh, no ; to play Ping-Pong ! Frank M. Bicknell. Smart Set. 94 RELIEF AT LAST \ RELIEF AT LAST n^HANK Summer ! Indoors it's too hot And Ping-Pong's name is Dennis ! We'll seek the outdoor, grassy plot And go 'way back to tennis ! Baltimore News. 95 i PING - PONG PING-PONG nPHE shades of night were falling fast As to the dining-room there passed A youthful pair, who gaily bore A box, on which was this — no more — " Ping-Pong." They cleared the table with a swish, From doily down to butter-dish ; Then through the centre stretched a net. And soon the ball the racquet met — Ping-Pong. " Try not the game ! " the housemaid cried. " The dinner's ready now," she sighed, " And I must put it on the board." The young man turned and fiercely roared : " Ping-Pong." The cook strode to the open door And cautioned them to cease once more. " The roast," she urged, " is sure to burn." The maiden gasped : "I'm bound to learn Ping-Pong." 96 PING-PONG The family lurked in the hall, And moaned : " Are we to eat at all ? " But still they heard the ping and pong That made the cadence of a song — Ping-Pong. And back and forth they smote the sphere Until the dawn of morning clear. The father, mother, sisters, too, Wailed hungrily : " Alas ! We rue Ping-Pong," One day the searchers, out of breath, Found all these people starved to death ; The cook, the housemaid, beau and belle, The family — and, sad to tell, Above them pinged the pongf ul knell : " Ping-Pong." Baltimore American, 97 SHARPS AND FLATS SHARPS AND FLATS nrWO kindred hearts that sing In a grand sweet song ; For when his heart throbs " ping," Then hers throbs " pong ! " Baltimore Herald. 98 PING-PONG HURT HIS HEART PING-PONG HURT HIS HEART /^H, my home it is a wreck And my wits are almost gone Since my family learned a game That they've aU gone daffy on. I have preached and plead and prayed , But they just say, " Come along, Now, daddie, to be in it, You must play Ping-Pong." CHORUS It's all day long, The same sing-song. Come along, come along, Play Ping-Pong. My dreams prolong The same ding dong, Come along, come along, Play Ping-Pong. To a church social I went ; As I joined the motley throng, I thought now they surely won't, But it's right there I was wrong. L.ofC. ^ PING-PONG HURT HIS HEART I went to see my neighbors, But, oh, why the tale prolong ? I found them all a-playing What they call Ping-Pong. Says I, mother-in-law will not, For she could not get along, But she found some one stone deaf Who could stand her language strong. We've a heathen Chinese cook, And he calls himself Wing Wong, We're the onlys on our block Not playing Ping-Pong. I cannot reform the world, I have tried it now too long, To my reformation clubs There is no one will belong ; So I guess I'll just get in With the whole world going wrong. And I'll learn this Httle game That they call Ping-Pong. M. E. Hale. San Francisco Examiner. CONFESSION CONFESSION T KNOW I must be wrong, But I cannot love Ping-Pong, I cannot sing In praise of ping ; I have no song for pong. Philadelphia Bulletin, loi WILL WE GO BACK TO TENNIS? WILL WE GO BACK TO TENNIS? 'T* HE RE'S hardly any difference, so far as I can see, Betwixt the game of tennis and the game of double "p" — While Ping-Pong is a table game, and tennis of the field, Both games are played with balls and net — the players racquets wield. But that cannot be said to be the point, I must admit ; While tennis is a warmish game, it seems Ping-Pong is /// Yet since there's no great difference, will Ping-Pong's name be Dennis? And when the heated term comes on, will folks go back to tennis ? Somehow there seems to be a fad for toadying to name — We'd rather have a crazy thing, though it is all the same ; Just hustle up a zibberzipp instead of old croquet, And down we'll fall and howl for zibberzipp 'most any day. I02 WILL WE GO BACK TO TENNIS? It isn't that the game is changed, but it's because the rose, Called by the name we've learned to love, is in its dying throes ; Hence, if some chap would dub bridge whist by name of zennys Jennys, There'd be a great big funeral, just like there was of tennis. It's human nature, I suppose; the girl that's chris- tened Liz Feels that she's , handicapped, of course — and I suppose she is. We never hear of barber shops ; tonsorial parlors they Have come to be entitled in this title-crazy day. But what I started out to say was, through the heated spell Will we continue Ping-Pong, or will tennis do as well? In other words, as I have said, will Ping-Pong's name be Dennis And will we gradually come to trifle some with tennis ? Baltimore News. 103 THE RUBAIYAT OF PING-PONG THE RUBAIYAT OF PING-PONG A ROUSE ! the woods are wet, the birds a-song, Shake off your slumbers, you're asleep o'erlong ; Put on pyjamas — seek a table and Begin to play your daily stunt — Ping-Pong. Why waste the night in sleep when you can play Ping-Pong ? Awake, and thus begin the day ; Your wife no doubt will join you in the game. If not, the janitor will join the fray. Why go to bed at all ? Begin at night To play, and keep it up till morning light, And thus you'll grow proficient at the thing, And put your rash opponents all to flight. Behold the cook — the kitchen table spread With net, and see her duck her frowzled head As swift the hostler drives the little ball — Great Scott! — it lights right in a pan of bread. The breakfast waits — 'twould be a frightful shame To spoil with breakfast such a dandy game, The steak is burning — let it crisp and curl — Don't bother cook — no, not in heaven's name ! 104 THE RUB A lY AT OF PING-PONG The coffee cools, the horses are not fed, The toast is black, but no one cares a red, The kids are playing in another room — The master and the mistress, overhead. Behold the lovers as they play Ping-Pong, They're at it all the summer evening long, He serves the ball, she strikes it out. Gee whiz ! She's knocked his eye out, for she struck it wrong. They do not stop the game for minor woes. He hits the ball and there it swiftly goes ; Ah, turn aside a moment, gentle folks. It's hit the maiden on her pretty nose. She's back at him — she's got him going south ; The ball has struck him squarely in the mouth, His teeth give way — they rattle down his throat, Yea, truly she has got him going south. Around the table see them bend and stoop ; They hit the air with sweep and swipe and swoop, They strike the chandelier a mighty whack. And broken glass falls down upon the group. The window lights are broken all to bits. The mirrors, too, come in for numerous hits, The sideboard loses all its costly glass. And everything obtains particular fits. 105 THE RUBAIYAT OF PING-PONG Break up the furniture and bruise and maim, It matters not — this is the bon ton game, The smart set leads the way — all tag along, The Ping-Pong path's the only road to fame. And some wear many bruises — yea, 'tis true, Some eyes are bunged and some are black and blue, Some teeth are out, some cheeks are red and raw — It matters not — it is the fad — it's new. A knuckle skinned — a head that's badly bumped ; A back that's aching and severely humped ; A swollen nose — ah, what indeed are these ? The game is great — all others have been dumped. Cut out your tennis and the game of golf, Eschew high five and poker — they are off The board — pinochle too is now passe ; At all such games ping-pongers sneer and scoff. The infants play it as they " goo " and drool, The children play the game while they're at school. The farmers play it and the farmers' wives, With butter-ladle and with net and spool. And married folk, who do not well agree, Take up the game with truly friendly glee ; 'Tis here they get a chance to vent their spites And not get yanked in justice courts, you see. 1 06 THE RUBAIYAT OF PING-PONG The granddads and the grandmams al] cavort Their stiff rheumatic limbs in this fine sport ; The fat and lean, the white and black and red, Yea, aU are in the craze, the tall and short. They all are daffy o'er the little game, The blind, the halt, the aged and the lame. The tender youth, the hoary-headed man, The little girl, the antiquated dame. The rich, the poor, the wicked and the good. The dead would play it if they really could ; The crazy people think it just the thing. The game is great — when it is understood. The world is Ping-Pong mad — across the sky The milky way is stretched a net so high. The stars the balls, the comets are the bats, They're playing Ping-Pong there — and that's no lie. Chicago Chronicle. 107 PING-PONG PING-PONG npiME was, and not so long ago, When dances, dinners, teas — When theatre, exhibit, show — When all one's charities — When musicales and cards and calls And rides and drives and walks, Receptions, luncheons, weddings, balls, Church, concerts, readings, " talks " - The opera, the fete, the fair. The paper chase, the beach, Golf, tennis, polo — all we dare, And everything in reach — Sans reason and sans rhyme, Took all the blessed time. Yet somehow now and then was found A day or so to spare To make the needful shopping round, Or give the body care. The tailor, modiste, milliner. Must needs their meed of time Accorded be ; masseuse, masseur, The dentist, doctor; I'm 1 08 PING-PONG Struck dumb with wonder and amaze ; There must be something wrong, For so much shorter now the days That then were none too long. Tired nature's sweet restorer I Would like to have a chance to try. Time was, and not so long ago, When, spite of all, was time The trend of current thought to know. Its humbler heights to climb. Time was when often to one's knee Clambered the blessed child ; But now — oh, say ! d'ye share the glee With which the whole world's wild ? D'ye play Ping-Pong? Come, have a game ! What did we ever do With our old selves ? How dull and tame The stupid life we knew ! Sing, merrily sing, With a ding-dong, ding-dong, ding ! With a Ping-Pong, Ping-Pong, Ping ! Ding-dong — Ping-Pong — Ping! Mrs. Ruthella S. Bollard. San Francisco Examiner. 109 PINGPONGITIS PINGPONGITIS A NOTHER craze the town has struck, A brand-new social fad, And we who watch shall play in luck If we're not driven mad ; So let me take my lyre down And weave a poet's song About this rage of all the town, This game they call Ping-Pong. There was a time when if you'd show That you had wealth galore, Society would not be slow To ope' for you its door ; But things have changed a lot of late, For now you can't belong To any swagger set first rate Unless you play Ping-Pong. No more is scandal fresh discussed Or five o'clock pink tea, No longer do they get divorced In swell society ; PINGPONGITIS For they've no time to bother now With this or that one's wrong, Since folks exclusive talk and row About this dear Ping-Pong. And going down the social scale We find the craze has spread, For though the infant loud doth wail, There's none to give him bread ; For mamma's in the parlor gay Among a maddened throng Of neighbors hammering away At afternoon Ping-Pong. The luncheon dishes go undone Since Ping-Pong came to town. But husbands who a meal have won, By wives are done up brown ; For though the toiler, sore and blue, Doth for his supper long, He'll have to wait till wife gets through With games of her Ping-Pong. And jokes on mother-in-law no more Win their accustomed smile, For Ping-Pong jokers have the floor, The laughter to beguile ; fi PINGPONGITIS And there's the comic artist too, He's stocking up quite strong At present now with pictures new About the fad, Ping- Pong. Then finally there comes along The newest Ping-Pong hat, The Ping-Pong puzzle, Ping-Pong song And Ping-Pong this or that ; The Ping-Pong walk, the Ping-Pong clan, With Ping-Pong talk to fright us, And lastly comes the Ping-Pong man, Who has the pingpongitis. W. Chanler Paterson. San Francisco Examiner. O TEMPORA! O MORES! O TEMPORA! O MORES! '| (The Table Tennis Gazette has issued its first number,) nr*HE games our fathers played at school Were poor, unscientific stuff, The muddied oaf and flannelled fool Were stupid and absurdly rough ; But brighter days have dawned and many's The blessing poured on table tennis. The poet's heart, that used to bound To hear the woodland huntsman's scream Backed by the tongue of every hound, Now soars towards a sweeter theme — A panegyric of Ping-Pong In unpremeditated song. And if you should be keen to know The latest table-tennis news, Who won the cup at Ben-by-Bow, Which shape of racquet champions use, Or what's the latest kind of net — You'll find it all in the Gazette. O TEMPORA! O MORES! Here every student of the game May learn (by cuts) the proper shot For every stroke that has a name, And many others that have not. Here you may learn if it is true That Tosher's got his Ping-Pong blue. And oh, the blessed day must come When journalist and racing tout, Author and critic all are dumb, And Ping-Pong occupies about (In place of politics and crimes) A dozen columns of the Times. Punch. 114 RUSHES RUSHES T T E rushes through his baby clothes, He rushes to long trousers : He rushes out of innocence To join the gay carousers. He rushes into school, and then He rushes out and looks Around and thinks he's mastered all There is to learn in books. He rushes to Ping-Pong or golf, Full of enthusiasm, And when new crazes come along He rushes in and has 'em. He rushes some fair maiden next, Forgetting other sports, And in a little while they both Rush madly for the courts. Care-free, he rushes forth again And for new pleasures scrambles. Until at last the breezes rush Above him through the brambles. Chicago Record-Herald. "S THE RAVAGES OF RECREATION THE RAVAGES OF RECREATION A ND so it's come to this at last. Arrangements are completed By which our " croquet cracks " may be For nerve excitement " treated ! " A " cure " has been devised which has, We are assured, made many fit. And will be specially employed For croquet players' benefit. A movement such as this, 'tis clear. Cannot be now impeded. There must be that development Which is so sorely needed ; There, for example, should be " Homes " (Thus euphuists would style 'em) Where those who've played " Ping- Pong " too much Might find a fit asylum. London Truth. ii6 THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN'' "THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN" T IFE is growing hard and dreary, every pleasure turns to gall ; In our very dreams we're haunted by a net and whiz- zing ball ; And our backs are nearly breaking, and our youth- ful limbs are sore, For we're playing, playing Ping-Pong, which our parents both adore. We can recollect our feelings (which of late have had such shocks) When our father read the paper, and our mother darned the socks ; But you can't respect your father when he's grovelling on the floor, Or is glaring at your mother if she doesn't know the score ! Well ! we'll try to bear our burden, and we'll never talk of " fads," Nor remark on « modern mothers," or " the latest thing in dads," 117 " THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN'' But we'll never know what peace is till we land upon that shore Where the fathers cease from pinging and the mothers pong no more. Punch. ii8 A REVOLUTIONARY RUMOR A REVOLUTIONARY RUMOR (A morning paper suggests that there are signs of a reaction against table-tennis.) A LAS ! and is it even so ? Since all things change, must Ping- Pong go ? Henceforward in what channels Shall sportsmen turn their energy Who muddied oafs disdain to be, And shrink from foolish flannels ? What other pastimes shall incite To emulation and delight The circles that are tip-top ? Shall champions future glories win With marble or with spilikin. Or records beat at whip-top ? Perish the thought ! such musings seem The fancies of an idle dream ; Still in its grasp despotic Shall Ping-Pong hold us, well content Until some genius shall invent A craze more idiotic. Punch. 119 THE MAN, THE MAID, AND THE BALL THE MAN, THE MAID, AND THE PING- PONG BALL (Triolets.) n^HEY batted and chattered; The ball went ping-pong ! She laughed and he flattered ; They batted and chattered. The lookers-on scattered. The game went along ; They batted and chattered ; The ball went ping-pong ! He said she was pretty ; The ball said ping-pong. She said he was witty To call her looks pretty ; He hummed a love ditty, She trilled a love-song. He sang she was pretty ; The ball sang ping-pong. The celluloid pattered So merry, ping-pong ! It was late ; but what mattered? The celluloid pattered. THE MAN, THE MAID, AND THE BALL All records were shattered, The players yet strong ; The celluloid pattered So merry, ping-pong ! He stammered, " Sweet Lily, I love you " — ping-pong ! She thought he was silly To call her " Sweet Lily." Her manner grew chilly ; But the game went along. He repeated, " Sweet Lily " — She answered, " Ping-Pong ! " Said he, " Others are pretty ! " (That ended Ping-Pong). Said she, " You're not witty To say others are pretty." He said, " That's a pity." She answered, " You're wrong." He still thought her pretty. The ball thought, ping-pong. Francesca Josephare. j ^ San Francisco Examiner. DISTINCTION DISTINCTION " TT AIL ! you whose honored brow is girt With bays that conquerors wear ! Of what achievement or desert The glory do you bear ? " Has prowess in the hard-fought fight Brought you a hero's fame ? Or have you won the strenuous right An athlete's prize to claim ? " Have you by intellect attained A goal worth striving for ? Since noble triumph may be gain'd At peace, no less than war." " No warrior I, with martial breast By lust of glory fired ; No student's meed did I contest By scholar's craft acquired. " No ! but the action I have done Earns laud of hand and lip, Both near and far — for I have won The Ping-Pong championship." Punch. i A PING-PONG PARODY A PING-PONG PARODY T CANNOT ping the old pongs, I pung six months ago. For Tendosynovitis has O'erwhelmed me with its woe, To serve all I cannot, and it fills me with such pain I cannot ping the old pongs, Perhaps may not ping again. I cannot ping the old pongs, But visions come again Of bisque balls swiftly flying, Of friends almost insane. Who, when these earthly fetters shall have set their spirits free, Will sit on the clouds ping-ponging To all eternity. New York Commercial Advertiser. 123 THE PING-PONG LOVER THE PING-PONG LOVER T T is not mine to serve with stately grace The celluloid into my lady's face ; To win no game with skill to me is given, I will not play at all unless I'm driven. It is not mine, It is not mine to send with easy grace The light ball bounding, The white ball bounding in my lady's face. Not mine in endless rallies to repel The thousand artful strokes she knows so well ; Not mine my suit victoriously to press (My valet does this when 'tis in a mess !) Not mine with futile, Not mine with frantic racquet to repel The curly service, The cunning service that I know too well. But mine it is to scramble in her train. The search in darkened corners to maintain, And lemonade to fetch with deference, And call the score, oft " love," with look intense ; 124 THE PING-PONG LOVER The grateful liquid, The blameless liquid fetch with reverence, My pingful worship, My pongful worship thus to evidence. Punch. 125 fVHV NOT? WHY NOT? (A writer in the Week End, describing an interview with M. Worth, said that gentleman " farewelled." It is the poet's prerogative to in- crease the vocabulary, and the following is an attempt in that direc- tion), T GARDENED in the evening shade, And birds around me songed ; Indoors my friends, as sounds betrayed. Ping- Ponged. 'Twas then that Jones came horsing by — His steed was newly shoed — He cordially " huUoa " -ed, and I " How-doed." He told me how his meadows grassed And how his poultry egged ; His views how houses should be glassed I begged. So he opinioned till I tired, And backed him from the theme, And then of butt'ring cows, inquired And cream. 126 WHY NOT? While thus we conversationed, Time With ruthless footsteps oiined, It darked, we heard the Vesper chime From yond. At last we felt that we must part, " Farewell, my friend," I cried, And he, with anguish at his heart, « Good-byed." London Chronicle. 127 PING-PONG POSERS PING-PONG POSERS T F up-to-date you'll advertise Ping-Pong shoes and Ping-Pong ties, Ping-Pong cakes and Ping-Pong clothes Ping-Pong pills and Ping-Pong hose, Ping-Pong crackers, Ping-Pong soap, Ping-Pong cocktails, Ping-Pong "dope," Ping-Pong cigarettes, Ping-Pong cigars, Ping-Pong motors, Ping-Pong cars, Ping-Pong tea of Ping-Pong brew, Ping-Pong ice-cream soda, too. Ping-Pong couches, Ping-Pong beds, Ping-Pong hats for Ping-Pong heads, Ping-Pong gowns for Ping-Pong girls, Ping-Pong irons for Ping-Pong curls, Ping-Pong shirts, and Ping-Pong stocks, Ping-Pong watches, Ping-Pong clocks, Ping-Pong curtains, Ping-Pong rugs, Ping-Pong remedies for bugs, Ping-Pong hairpins, Ping-Pong nails, Ping-Pong carpets, Ping-Pong veils, 128 PING-PONG POSERS Ping-Pong plasters for your corns, Ping-Pong whistles, Ping-Pong horns, Ping-Pong goods and Ping-Pong trash, Why, then, you'll Ping-Pong lots of cash ! La Touche Hancock. Torrington {Conn.) Register. 129 WASTE WASTE "pULL many a flower is born to blush unseen And waste its fragrance on the desert air. Full many a table stands unused between The meals, because they don't play Ping-Pong there. Chicago Record-Herald. 130 THE BALLADE OF PING-PONG THE BALLADE OF PING-PONG TN the mouldy tombs of the long ago Are the games that amused the grave and gay ; Nor the spring's sweet face, nor the winter's snow, Nor the gloomy eyes of the autumn gray, Shall see them again in their brave array, As they poured out joy to the worldly throng. All gone and forgotten quite — but say ? What do we care since we have Ping-Pong? No more does the pleasure seeker go To the football contest's wild affray. Such brutal sport is now deemed low, And tennis and golf have had their day. And baseball, too, in the selfsame way Has gone to its slumbers deep and long. They are surely dead, but tell me, pray, What do we care since we have Ping-Pong ? The circus, too, and the minstrel show Are gone from the face of the earth to stay. Checkers and chess are much too slow For the hurry-up folks who are deemed au fait. 131 \\ THE BALLADE OF PING-PONG Old sledge that our grandfathers used to play-; And euchre and poker are sinful — wrong — And dead as the others are — but hey ? What do we care since we have Ping-Pong ? ENVOI From this workaday world of wealth and woe Fled is the music of dance and song ; I am sure of that — but I want to know What do we care since we have Ping-Pong ? E. D. MULCAHY. San Francisco Examiner. 132 A SPRING SONG A SPRING SONG CING Song In the air, Ding, Dong, Ding; Ping- Pong Everywhere, Spring, Sprong, Spring. Judge. 133 AN EXTRA -ACTIVE VERB AN EXTRA -ACTIVE VERB (The conjugation of the new verb "To Ping ") PRESENT TENSE T PING. Thou pongest. He — ahem ! — plays " table-tennis. We are all champions. Ye pay subscriptions. They are outsiders ! IMPERFECT AND AMATEURISH I was pooh-poohing. Thou wast using an eighteenpenny set. He was wearing a club " blazer." We were pitching into the umpire. Ye were making your own rules. They were having words. PAST {last season) . I pang. Thou pongedst. He pung. We grovelled after balls. 134 AN EXTRA -ACTIVE VERB Ye split your trouser-knees. They burst their braces. FUTURE I will ping, or perish in the effort. Thou shalt " retrieve." He will upset the furniture in his enthusiasm. We shall annex the dining-room. Ye shall go without dinner. They (the servants) will bless us ! POTENTIAL MOOD I may turn professional. Thou mayest take lessons from me (five guineas an hour). She may show off her figure. We may electrify Balham. Ye may get "blues " (not "the blues"). They may win at the Aquarium. OPTATIVE OR MATRIMONIAL MOOD I might become a " parti." Thou mightest introduce me to thy daughter. She might double her chance of marrying. We might Ping-Pong into " society." Ye might " stand the racket." They might hit it off. ^35 AN EXTRA- ACTIVE VERB IMPERATIVE Play! Let him mop ! Let's have a drink ! Go it, ye cripples ! Game ! PARTICIPLES Present: Ping. Passive : (not found). Infinitive: To get into the Badminton Series, and abandon the now undignified title of " Ping- Pong." A. A. S. Punch. 136 THE PONGER AND THE PINGSTRESS THE PONGER AND THE PINGSTRESS T F a man who plays at Ping-Pong is a " ponger," Then a singer of a " sing-song " is a " songer ; " If the " songer " is a singer, Then the " ponger " is a " pinger," And the man who says it's wrong must be a " wronger." If your charming partner at the game's a "pings- tress," Then an operatic nightingale's a " singstress ; " If the song she sings is sung, Is the game of ping-pong " pung ? " And is the girl who lingers called a " lingstress ? " London Mail. 137 SHAKESPEARE PING - PONGED SHAKESPEARE PING -PONGED T F Ping-Pong be the food of love, play on ! Give me too much of it, that, satiate. My craze for it may tire out and vamoose. That ball again ? It had a pinging sound. Oh, it struck on my ear like old-time boxings That I received when I was but a lad, Taking and giving lickings. 138 PING-PONG PING-PONG T T AI L to this, the name absurd — ■■^ Ping-Pong ! Like some Filipino word — Ping-Pong ! Calabanga and Silang, Butalong, I bung, Indang, Nasiping, Morong, Bambang — Ping-Pong ! Chant caprice's latest gem — Sing-song ! Sound of "bridge" the requiem — Ding-dong ! Bat the celluloid about, Mingling choler, laugh, and pout ; One fad's in, the other's out — Ping-Pong ! Edwin L. Sabin. Judge. 139 PING-PONG PING-PONG lyrYSTERIOUS game, With the mellifluous name, Ping-Pong ! I wonder what thou art ? How ever didst thou start ? How are you played ? Must you invoke the aid Of cards and chips, And various slips Of paper where so oft we read anew Those mournful hieroglyphics, I. O. U. For if you do. So long, Ping-Pong. But I in faith am half -inclined to say That you were never really meant to play ; That nature brought you forth to soothe the ear With sweet monotony, subdued yet clear. Like distant bells which from afar we hear. Sing Song. Ding Dong. Ping-Pong. Washington Star. 140 A HER GAME HER GAME O HE cares not for Ping-Pong, For golf nor croquet ; Not even lawn tennis She's learned how to play. In fact, she despises These strenuous arts. But she plays her cards well In the game known as " hearts." Philadelphia Bulletin 141 THE YAWP OF THE PING-PONG THE YAWP OF THE PING-PONG QH, say, Do you play Ping-Pong ? What's Ping-Pong ? Pshaw, go 'long ! It's Me ; See? The latest game that's captured fame ; The freshest fad that may be had, And everybody's got me bad. From India's icy mountains To Greenland's coral reef, The way they're playing Ping-Pong Surpasses all belief. I come from China, as it appears, Where Pigtails have ping-ponged For a thousand years ; And going to Britain, The English grabbed Me up in a way They've always nabbed Whatever they wanted ; and p d q I jumped from the ancient into the new. 142 THE YAWP OF THE PING-PONG Then the Yankees caught on, And I'm to-day The only game that is fit to play. Gee whiz ! If you don't know what Ping-Pong is You'd better learn, If you want to earn Your title clear To mansions in the best set, For you'll never get There if you don't ; And you won't Ever be IT If you don't ping-pong a little bit. I may modestly state That I am great. But, in confidence now, I do not see how Every-one is so stuck on Me, Unless it must be That they have the worst Kind of a thirst For something new, And Ping-Pong, between Me and you. Is the only quencher they can get. But what's that to me? Hully gee ! 143 ^> ' »~i "JL .. ^'