Explore "Net Practice" by Norman Gale on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
We had a fellow in the School / Whose batting simply was a dream: / A dozen times by keeping cool / And hitting hard he saved the Team. / But oh! his fielding was so vile, / As if by witch or goblin cursed, / That he was called by Arthur Style, / King Butterlegs the Worst!
At tea-time, supper, breakfast, lunch, / For many disappointed days, / We reasoned with him in a bunch, / Imploring him to mend his ways. / He listened like a saint, with lips / As if in desperation pursed; / Then gave three fourers in the Slips -- / King Butterlegs the Worst!