Golf

Golf

I wish I was a great golfer playing with pros,
And played my rounds well under par for 18 holes.
I envy the talents of those players they show
On tour. I’m sure you know they make big dough.

I’ve had lessons and practice driving on the range,
Yet, when I hit the ball, my swing is very strange.
I keep my head down and my eyes upon the ball,
But, when I swing the club, sometimes I fall.

I slice, hook, and hit more mulligans than good shots,
Putting over again add strokes to my score by a lot.
I bought a video of Nicklaus and Palmer,
And try to relax before I golf to make me calmer.

Still, it’s no use; I’m just another duffer.
Playing golf is the self-abuse I choose to suffer.
Yet, I play the game it gets me out of the house,
Away from my kids and nagging of my lovely spouse.

One day, after I hit my hole-in-one,
I’ll break my clubs and give up all this fun.
Until then, I’ll play with my big handicap,
Making believe it’s for my game people clap.