24

24

The drinks we pour
at hour twenty-four
cost no more
at the Jersey Shore.

Signs on the door
say "feed the poor"
with coats they wore
left on the floor.

The crowd will roar
as number twenty-four
makes his average soar
and golfers yell, "Fore!"

Rhymes galore
for 24
but there's no more
this poem's a chore.