In the contrast of the armies mixed from the deal,
The Auction begins.
Points counted and considered, suits measured from the blend.
North from the start considers his bid, while his partner,
Sits wide-eyed at the mess in her hand.
East is a wonder at how this could be,
When West opens the bidding two clubs if you please.
After North passes, two diamonds east responds,
Then South follows her partner and pass is her song.
He must have been crazy.
It couldn’t be true,
But his bid was distinct and reverberated across the room.
Seven No Trump he boldly exclaimed.
His partner passed out and North did the same.
He had counted three times the cards in his hand,
He had never seen anything like it and likely wont again
And from the kibitzers who gasped indeed nor had they.
For west had the jackpot and there was no doubt,
Of the possible forty, thirty seven high card points,
Was concealed in his hand.
It really didn’t matter which suit had ten points.
The poor Jack looked funny and so out of place.
But of the chorus of four times Ace, King and Queen.
Grand Slam was a lay down of the rarest breed.
Ó Robert Hullender