May 242012
By Bob Smith.
| The game o gowf is puzzlin Causes frustration yet gies pleasure Fin ye think ye’ve got it cracked It shows it’s got yer measure . Yer drive it splits the fairway The nine iron shot’s a dream Ye miss anither twelve inch putt It’s aneuch ti mak ye scream . Anither drive doon the middle Next shot’s bang on the stik Fit silly sod pit a bunker ‘ere His brain it maan be thick . Ye crack een verra close ti green Syne thin yer next wedge shot Fit wye div a play iss silly sport? My game’s gien a ti pot . A five widd at a blin par three Yer sure it maan be close Ye fin it’s fifty fitt awa Yer feelin fair morose . Yer next tee shot’s a bittie hookit It his feenished on a bank Nae problem – jist an easy swing Oh no! A bliddy shank |
Ye reach the turn in forty Ah weel it cwid be worse Next shot flees weel oot o bounds It’s time ti sweir an curse . Ye hit a richt monster drive It’s soarin weel oot o sicht Yer partners shak their heids an say Yer swing it wisna richt . Maist shots are oot the sweet spot Fit are ye deein right? Next roond it’ll be back ti slicin And playin a load o shite . Ye hit the green in regulation Syne ye tak three putts Ye stan ‘ere an scratch yer heid It fairly drives ye nuts . Yer keepin yer game tigether The last hole -yer nearly hame Seeven shots later an ye mutter Fa inventit iss stupid game? . Ah weel there’s aywis next wikk Ye return wi fresh hope an vigour Ye duff yer first drive seeventy yards Did I hear some bugger snigger? |
©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie “ 2012
Image Credit: © Boleslaw Kubica | Dreamstime.com