Below the Beltway
Rhymin' sly man: If Shakespeare had worked the Catskills ...
Just when I was thinking that I really needed a tactic to drive readers away from my column in droves, I got an e-mail from Eileen Mattingly, daring me to rewrite old jokes as Elizabethan sonnets.
A minister, a rabbi, and a priest
Went golfing once, not very long ago
Irate they soon became, to say the least:
The foursome just ahead was far too slow.
The clerics asked a keeper of the green
To prod the dawdlers, if he wouldn't mind.
The keeper, though, declared the act too mean
As each man in the group ahead was blind.
Quite mortified, the minister then vowed
That from the pulpit, blind golf he would praise.
"I'll pass the plate," the noble priest allowed,