There was motion in the town, till they locked us all back down
And NOTL closed their shops and tourist stores.
But the numbers kept increasing, putting pressure on policing
And they told us we all had to stay outdoors.
Though some folk had some misgivings, most preferred to keep on living
So they modified their outdoor tennis space
Pickleball became the rage, a game to play at any age
And the P.B. Club was born there, just in case.
The game’s following increased, not one player grew deceased
Courts were jammed, though all the shops stayed mostly barren
Then one woman took a stand, she declared this must be banned.
It was the hero that we needed, Pickleball Karen.
Now her real name wasn’t Karen, could be Kim, or Kate or Sharon
It’s irrelevant, for she was heaven sent
Her complaints about the din, were ignored, to her chagrin
So she lawyered up and off to court she went.
Now there are ways and there are means, to make a point. Or so it seems
But diplomacy, we know, is for the weak.
This was no time to back down, she would sue the club and town
It was time for them to hear her bold critique.
“I’m not one to hold a grudge. But my life’s hell,” she told the judge
And due to noise it’s hard for me to function
My nerves are quite a wreck; I can’t sit upon my deck
So I pray the court will grant me an injunction.
Her lawyer thusly plead, that the noise messed with her head
For the volume was indeed a trifle high
And the sound of whacking balls left her climbing up her walls
So he asked the judge to ban the game hereby.
And the judge, named Mary Shelley, said this case seems rather smelly
But nonetheless, the town must still comply
With the laws of God and Britain, and town’s own laws they’d written
So the volume must decrease; the game must die.
As I near the end of sonnet, there’s a padlock placed upon it
And the courts stand very silent to this day
So the case was put behind ’em, and the town and club, she fined ’em
For their impudence for letting people play.
The players are not raunchy, though since then some have grown paunchy
For they’ve taken to enjoying cups of wine.
You can’t play here, it’s a pity, though they play in the Garden City
And the villages and towns across the Line
You can play within Australia, but not here, for fear they’ll jail ya
If you should break the padlock on the gate
All the players now are banished; as for Karen, she has vanished.