(In which Ye Ed attempts the millionaire’s game and obeys the first rule of golf, which is to put back the turf.)
We stood at the tee and the driver we swung,
Then we put back the turf;
At the ball, then a thing called the ‘mashie,’ we flung,
Then we put back the turf.
‘There’s a fine mid-iron shot I am sure you can do,’
Said a friend, ‘you should get on the green then in two;’
We tried it, then painted the atmosphere blue
And put back the turf.
We tried for a shot o’er a bunker ahead,
Then we put back the turf;
We attempted to loft, but the ball remained dead,
Then we put back the turf.
We tackled the niblick, the putter, the cleek,
They went through the air with a whistle and shriek,
And our manner was humble and abject and meek
As we put back the turf.
We posed, a la Travers, and let the club go,
Then we put back the turf;
The pellet was nicely addressed for a blow,
Then we put back the turf;
Out there on the links with the sun shining warm
To watch us the spectators came in a swarm,
And they freely remarked on our wonderful form
As we put back the turf.
At the first, second, third, fourth and fifth holes men see
Where we put back the turf;
From the fifth to the ninth it’s as plain as can be
Where we put back the turf.
And we answered when asked, as we sat at a meal,
Our honest opinion of golf to reveal:
‘It’s great, but it’s terribly hard on the heel
When you put back the turf.’
