Shuffleboard

Dick (Davis); Dick and his Mother; Dick on the Bike; Dick’s Mother and Father George. .

When THE SHUFFLER presented President Wright of the Avon Park Club the Framed Article (see article below), they also re-typed this poem, found in storage at Avon Park, framed it, and presented it to President Wright to hang in the Avon Park Hall along with the General Article.  In the margin is a pix of George A. Davis’s wife who turned 100 last June. She is accompanied by her son Dick, Past President of Avon Park. We do hope that you read the poem; we know that you will enjoy it if you do.  NOTE: If you have a “shuffling poem”, please send it along.  Stan and Alf of THE SHUFFLER.  2007 04 11. 

STAN McCORMACK read this poem on 2012 11 23 at the Davis Memorial And, (get this), I believe in 2007.      

WINTER GUEST CLUB

The autumn leaves have turned to red and gold, and the frost is all around,

The garden vines have withered, and the corn is turning brown. 

Large flocks of geese are heading south, a chill is in the air,

We know that soon the cold and snow, will be more than we wish to bear.

Once again the clocks have been set back, and the days are OH! so short,

And the robins and the blue birds, a warmer place have sought.

So the beautiful northern summer will soon be left behind,

Then a cozy spot in the Sunshine State, many of us will find.

That cozy spot will be Avon Park, The Winter Guest Club is there,

Where members number six hundred strong, and the games they play are fair.

Where the atmosphere is as friendly a place, as the south has ever known,

Where many seeds of friendship year after year are sown.

Where a welcome hand extends to greet you, and a hearty “how do you do.”

Where they say “we are glad to see you back” and they mean it too.

Where it stirs the soul and warms the heart, to see these true friends once more,

Where the opportunity lies just ahead, to make as many more.  

Where thousands of games of shuffleboard, on its twenty two courts are played,

Where a try to win a trophy, by two hundred shufflers are made.

Where local talent plays its part by members of our club,

Where everyone stands ready to lend a hand, when the courts are to be scrubbed.

Where the losers shake their opponents hand and greet them with a smile,

Where the right kind of sportsmanship makes these games worth while.

Where craft is taught to those of skill, and many beautiful articles are made,

Where there are entertainments; of every sort, and picture slides displayed.

Where dances both round and square, are held two nights a week,

Where a chance to win at all games of cards many players seek.

Where Bingo games and Pot Luck suppers, are held once every week,

Where our good cooks from the north and east, bring twice what we can eat. 

How fast the time flies, six months have so quickly passed,

How did the winter go so soon, and the spring get here so fast.

Now our thoughts turn to our northern homes, as their surrounding respond to spring,

Also to our families, friends and neighbours, and to hear the robins sing.

So the time has come to pack our bags, in readiness to go,

But not before a fond farewell, to the many friends we’ve come to know.

And wish each other the best of health, and a safe trip home for all,

And to say if God is only willing, we will see you all next fall.

                                      By George A. Davis  

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