The golfer had finished his Saturday round,
when he stopped for a drink at the bar.
It took several pints to settle his score:
to pay for his bogeys,
to his buddies who shot
an eagle, four birdies and par.
His beagle dog gave a welcome bark . . .
his wife kept on knitting. The kitchen was dark.
“Sorry, I’m late, darlin’,
but our game was delayed.
I was hopin’ my supper
might be warm on my plate.”
Without missing a stitch, her answer was crisp:
“The stew is still warm.
You’ll find it – inside the dog.”
– Elsie Ellis
