On The Ball
A golfer hit into the rough.
The ball landed on an ant hill.
The golfer swore some nasty stuff,
And threw his club as golfers will.
Then took another club and swung.
Lots of dirt and sand and ants flew.
But in the same spot the ball hung.
So then what did the golfer do?
Swung again but the ball still stayed.
Dirt and sand and ants flew instead.
The golfer hacked in a tirade.
One of the remaining ants said,
'I don't know about you ants all, '
'But I'm gonna get on the ball.'
Ima Ryma's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (On The Ball by Ima Ryma )
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