Roy's Birthday, by special guest contributor and ZWR enthusiast Jonathan Swift
Roy this day is thirty-six,
(We shan't dispute a proper fix:)
However, Roy, be not dismayed,
Although thy cuffs and tendons frayed,
Since first we saw thee at thirty two,
The brightest pitcher on the crew;
So little is thy form declin'd;
Made up so largely in donkey's mind.
Oh, would it please the gods to split
Thy deliv'ry, size, and years, and wit;
No age could furnish out a pair
Of men so graceful, wise, and fair;
As Chooch and Roy their signs a-flutter,
With half your command, control, and cutter.
And then, before men got on base,
How should they beg you save their face?
(That one and all might have their due)
Perchance thy shall attend the zoo.