Cribbage Poem
Posted: May 1st, 2010, 4:16 pm
CRIBBAGE POEM
By Steve Plonk
Dad was really on a hot luck streak—
He kept getting 14 point hands and
I kept getting from 0 – 8 points.
From the beginning Dad got a commanding lead.
Even with my crib I couldn’t even pull even with him.
The cards were in his favor.
Even when I got an incredible hand—
It had to be split up to go into Dad’s crib.
The peg holes lengthened out in a one-sided horse race.
If it was a horse race, instead of cribbage, he’d
Have been ten lengths ahead on the board,
Laid out like a race track—
Finally, I had to admit I’d been skunked when
He was more than 24 points ahead. I was right.
I got skunked on our last cribbage game.
May 1998
By Steve Plonk
Dad was really on a hot luck streak—
He kept getting 14 point hands and
I kept getting from 0 – 8 points.
From the beginning Dad got a commanding lead.
Even with my crib I couldn’t even pull even with him.
The cards were in his favor.
Even when I got an incredible hand—
It had to be split up to go into Dad’s crib.
The peg holes lengthened out in a one-sided horse race.
If it was a horse race, instead of cribbage, he’d
Have been ten lengths ahead on the board,
Laid out like a race track—
Finally, I had to admit I’d been skunked when
He was more than 24 points ahead. I was right.
I got skunked on our last cribbage game.
May 1998