Turns in a Worm's Lane, Ogden Nash.

Turns In a Worm’s Lane.
by Ogden Nash.

I’ve never bet on a so-called horse
That the horse didn’t lose a leg.
I’ve never putted on a golfing course
But the ball behaved like an egg.
I’ve never possessed three royal kings
But somebody held three aces;
In short, I’m a lad whose presence brings
The joy to banker’s faces.

And everybody says, “What a splendid loser!”
Everybody says, “What a thoroughgoing sport!”
And I smile my smile like an amiable Duse,
I leer like a lawyer in the presence of a tort.
And I crack my lips,
And I grin my grin,
While someone else
Rakes my money in.
Yes, I smile a smile like the Mona Lisa,
Though my spirits droop like the Tower of Pisa.
Yes, I chortle like a military march by Sousa
And everybody says, “What a splendid loser!”

I’ll buy a tome, an expensive tome,
On the gentle craft of diddling,
And I’ll wrap it up and I’ll take it home,
And read ‘til I’m fair to middling.
I’ll stealthily study the ebony arts
Of men like the great Houdini,
‘til both in foreign and local parts
I’m known as a darned old meany.

And everyone will say, “What a nasty winner!”
And everyone will say, “What an awful sport!”
And they’ll all stop inviting me to come to dinner,
For I used to be a dimple and I want to be a wart.
But I won’t care,
And I’ll win with a scowl,
Foul means or fair,
But preferably foul.
I’ll jeer my victims every time I vanquish,
And if I lose I shall scream with anguish.
And people will say, “What a dreadful sport!”
And I’ll say, “Phooie!” or something of the sort.