The Writer's Voice
The World's Favourite Literary Website
Golfing
by
Tom Tannehill
There ain’t no wicked-er game then golf it drives me up the wall.
I wonder why I cater to that pockmarked little ball.
The object is to bang the thing from one hole to the next
And on and on ad nauseum it makes me damned perplexed.
I’ve seen men cry and seen some whine this game so irritates
And all because that little ball just won’t cooperate.
Golf balls don’t got no morals; got no alee-gee-ance.
They’d rather lead than follow so we don’t have much a chance.
But every once in a great while they’ll conform to what we will
And do the things we ask them to and we forget their bitter pill.
So I’ll play this stupid game awhile ‘til when my time has come
And I smack that noxious little ball and make a hole-in-one!
Fat chance you say? Well maybe. But all I can do is try.
And if I don’t I’ll do what most good duffers do... I’ll lie!
Critique this work
Click on the book to leave a comment about this work
