Golf is a game, that men love to hate,
You needed a four, but you just got an eight,
Your best score has stood now, for ten years or more,
It’s unlikely you’ll ever beat that eighty-four.
You finished the ninth hole, on a good thirty-nine,
You’re swinging like Tiger, you’re putting is fine.
You’re knocking in pars and a birdie or two,
But the big number ten is still waiting for you.
Now don’t get excited, this could be your day,
Just keep yourself calm and continue to play.
But don’t get too cocky, or blasé or bland,
Or you might get a shock, if you land in the sand.
You’ve now played the twelfth, and you’re still doing fine,
Your worst score is six, there’s no sign of a nine,
But disaster awaits you, around the dogleg,
‘Will you get off your knees, there’s no need to beg’.
You scuttled the ball out from under the tree,
Then gave it your finest, ‘twas magic to see.
From the edge of the green, you made a fine chip,
But alas it’s a pity, it hung on the lip.
The last holes are easy, ‘ I blinkingwell know’,
You’re under great pressure, but don’t let it show.
You turn over your wrist, you’re now in the mud,
You’re not giving up, but your friends think you should.
Just calm yourself down now, you still have a chance,
Check your direction, correct that wide stance,
The last hole’s a par four, it should be a three,
The word’s reached the clubhouse, they’re all out to see.
So you take a slow swing, ‘Was that an air-shot’?
With all of them watching, you’re sure to get caught,
You swing with the five wood, the ball is in flight,
‘ My God, where’s it going, no, not to the right’.
You make your way to it, it’s not easy to see,
You now know the reason, it’s behind the oak tree.
You chip to the left, to get a clean wedge,
‘My God, where’s it gone now, straight into the hedge’.
You’ve taken a drop, you’re now playing it sweet,
‘Now where is the blaggard’, ‘It’s still at your feet’.
You slash at the ball blind, you’re temper is up,
‘Oh Mother of God, its straight into the cup’.
You’ve missed your best score, merely by two,
Some so-and-so wished it, he must detest you.
So cheer up, you golfer, forget all your sorrow,
Today - it is over, there’s always tomorrow.