goonletfly

ON GOLF

SURE SHOT, SAFE BET.

I'll give the ball a hefty blow
And then I'll bet my precious dough
Right at that hole my ball will go.
When it gets near, that ball will slow,
then drop right in--the status quo--
If that hole is filled with H₂0!

FUN FOR SOME

1. There once was an old duffer foursome
Who did eighteen holes every day.
They played in a way that was boresome,
For most of their shots went agley,
Flying far through the rough, off-the-course, some.

2. As for birdies and pars, they'd adore some,
But as you'd expect from old fogies,
They never quite managed to score some.
They kept getting multiple bogies;
And their score-cards? well, they up and tore some!

3. Find an easier course? They'd explore some,
With all par-three courses too tough.
They'd like some, but then they'd abhor some
And walk off the course in a huff,
In anger, and loud; man they swore some!

4. As for outlandish togs, why they wore some
Plaid knickers like wild-colored kilts.
And their shirts like in old days of yore: Some
Like grand-mother's old crazy-quilts.
If their wives watched these guys, they'd divorce some.

5. If you watched them in action, you'd snore some:
They took half-an-hour between greens.
Or else you might find you could roar some
With laughter. What ludicrous scenes!
You really might roll on the floor some.

6. When their spirits were low they'd restore some
With those joys that went on off the links.
They never were known to ignore some:
The nineteenth hole offered some drinks.
Their spirits? For sure they would soar some:
"Hey guys, there s the bar. Let's go pour some."

A HOLE IN ONE

A dream can turn like souring cream,
And it did for me, this way:
A hole-in-one--the golfer s dream--
I got one yesterday.

For golf I wear my lucky socks,
A prized and venerable pair.
Although I store excesive stocks,
They're the only ones I wear.

So yesterday on the outward nine
My lucky socks were working:
My drives were long, approaches fine,
My putter really perking.

But what a change came-much too soon.
I must admit it mister;
My clubs played badly out of tune
When my foot incurred a blister.

My lucky socks had failed, I found,
Before the round was done.
Their charms had worked serene and sound--Till I got a hole in one.

GOLF LIMERICKERY

I.: The Untrained

I apply all the lessons I took,
And I learned how to play by the book;
    But I have some concern,
    For my clubs didn't learn
Not to top, shank, dig turf, slice, or hook.

II.: My Limit

In all of my golfing career
From my first to this ultimate year
    Not a time did I play
    Over ninety; 'cause, hey,
If it's hotter, I sit and drink beer.

III. Overcure

When my pro taught me 'Swing inside out,"
Which I mastered, I had not a doubt
    That his top-drawer advice
    Was the cure for my slice.
Now I've got this big hook with each clout!