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Golf is a game full of strange fickle tricks

And players use clubs that look much like sticks

Pull ’em out of a bag and wave ’em about

Take a swing, hit the ball and “fore” they shout

Some folk like to fit in a round every day

But do they get better? I really can’t say.

One thing’s for certain, as a game it’s damn tough

If you don’t play enough, you end up in the rough

It’s great when you hit ’em straight and far

Even better when you score a very rare par

But swing a clunker and you can drop a dunker

Or bogey a shot from the dreaded sand bunker

Now settle down tree huggers, don’t get cross

Just ’cos Jimmy skited he hit an albatross

Our terms include birdies, and a much-desired eagle

To find his lost balls, Mick often resorts to a beagle

Hole in one! Bloody hell, I’d settle for eight!

Step up, address the ball don’t hesitate

Straight down the fairway, that’d be nice

Shit, damn and poop, I’ve gone and sliced.

Rocker Bon Scott played golf but never did well

He always seemed stuck on the Fairway to Hell

Presidents, too, have tried their hand at the game

but sadly for them the result’s much the same

Golfers gather each night at the nineteenth hole

It’s the place they grow older and bolder

With a few grogs they become kings of the green

And recall shots no-one else seemed to have seen

Men behaving badly and dressed even worse

For golf widows at home, the game is a curse

Or maybe blessing, ah, some personal time

Until he gets home full of beer, whinge and whine

Now two holy prophets were playing a round

And Moses reckoned his advice was sound

“Come on, Lord, use a six for this drive

You’ll never lift it enough if you use that five”

Said his mate “I saw Tiger play a similar shot

A five iron he used, got him out of a spot”

So he swung but not with the care that he oughta

And cursed as it drifted, splash, into the water

He had to go out a long way to retrieve the ball

And walked on top of the lake as he did his trawl

“Who’s he think he is? Jesus Christ?” Asked a bloke in a hood

Yes he is, said Moses, but he thinks he’s Tiger Woods.

© Ian McDougall

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