And Peoples Thinks We Ain't Got Culture

My note to the boys:

Three Lime Rickeys To Go,  Or, more accurately, Casting My Pearls Before Swine

A small group of guys, Lyle's friends
Must quickly start making amends
The weather's now colder
Mohr's recently older
And soon will start wearing Depends

 

I dragged three of your asses out west
Put your pathetic skills to the test
But if you remember
That was September
When we clearly determined who's best

 

So let's get up and back on that horse
God knows you can't play that much worse
Let's get off the schnide
Whether we walk or we ride
Unless there is lightning, of course.

 

Ernie's response:

 Any group of Lyle's

Replete with smiles

Would have to be small.

Perhaps that's all

That could tolerate his guiles.

 

Your Western fiction

Merits contradiction.

Your memory sucks

Like your Sacagawea bucks

And is a prime example of faulty cognition.

 

So if your ego can handle the test

And the Boys can make it on 1 month's rest

Then a contest we'll play

Whether sunny or gray

And really determine who's best.

 

Gregg's response:

In order to be Lyle's friend

One must first make him spend

Off to the links, say I

So we again can see him cry

 

Though Mohr's a tad older

I still him smolder

Warm soapy showers with Ernie

Make him long for a tourney

 

If it's a road trip you seek

Then I will certainly have to sneak

But whether it be Tucson or Tubac 

I need to win my money back

 

If the game involves a beer

You'll not see me sneer

Lets go hit em, guys

As usual, the loser buys