A Chronic Semi-Finalist

By Charles (Chick) Evans 

I’m a semi-final hoodoo,
            I’m afraid
I can never do as you do,
            Jimmie Braid;
I’ve a genius not to do it,
|I excel at almost to it,
But I never can go through it,
            I’m afraid.

I have seen how Hilton plays it,
            I, dismayed,
And each problem how he weighs it,
            Unafraid.
Straight he goes for woe, or weal,
And his nerves are bits of steel
Made to work and not to feel,
            Thus he played.

Now it’s just as plain as can be,
            I can’t putt,
So I must and also-ran be
            In a rut.
Hilton! Could I do as you do!
Oh, a mascot for my hoodoo!
Travis, tell me how ’tis you do
            That small putt.
So this is a heartfelt cry
Of my muse.
Fate, I beg you hear my sigh,
            Don’t refuse.
I ask not the nation’s prize,
But the finals tempt my eyes,
Halfway-finals I despise
            When I lose.
Oh! A mascot, for I’m ever
            One of four;
Quatrefoil and horse-shoe never
            Bring me more.
A new mascot do I need,
Hoodoo-proof and guaranteed
To the finals it will lead,
            Nothing more.