This poem was a tribute to the graphic art of American artist Arthur Sarnoff.
It was Friday night at Wally Wagtail’s Pool Hall,
Where the hustler dogs of Pawston come to play.
The mutts chugged local brews and smoked their woodbines
And a fug hung round the ceiling, thick and grey.
Tonight promised to be big for Stanley Kibble;
The old bulldog was just raring to begin.
He was playing Ralph De Begall for five Benjamins;
An opponent against whom he’d surely win.
“OK fellahs, grab yer cues,” said Wally Wagtail
(Looking dapper in bow tie and bowler hat).
Stanley broke and got the twelve-ball in a pocket,
Then sank three in quick succession after that.
Stanley soon became the hero of the evening;
Poor old Ralph was just too easy to depose.
Once Ralph even made the cue ball jump the table,
And it struck Ambrose O’Colley on the nose!
Not long after, no more stripes were on the table
And for Ralph, it seemed, there was no last hurrah.
Stan was lining up a shot to pot the eight-ball, when…
“YOU BAD DOG, STANLEY KIBBLE! THERE YOU ARE!”
In came Stanley’s poodle wife (her name, Griselda),
Yelling raucously and threatening assault.
Stan was led away in shame, to gales of laughter,
And Ralph became the winner by default.