I was handed this great poem by a JC Golf employee, and it was well worth sharing. I mean he rhymed “hazards” and “matters”, fabulous!
Enjoy! Greg
GOLF
Of all sports- a frustrating game,
Once you play, you are never the same.
Stance-swing- techniques galore,
Unwanted advice-and much more.
Always optimistic on the first tee,
Then it’s the gods of golf- you see.
Out of bounds-laterals-and hazards,
Hitting it straight is all that matters.
Looking for pars birdies and such,
Is an occasional eagle asking too much?
Bogies and worse could ruin your day,
Then asking yourself why do I play?
Water hazards- more than aware,
Told to pretend that they aren’t there.
If this is the positive way to think,
Why does the ball end up in the drink?
One thing that we all should know,
It’s drive for show and putt for dough.
Woods and irons may lead the way,
But that little putter may save the day.
Tiger-Phil- and all pros of fame,
Make it look like an easy game.
It’s enjoyable watching them fuss,
When they miss a shot-just like us.
Golf is as fickle as a petulant dame,
No matter what it’s never the same.
She may treat you very well today,
But next time-she’ll have her way.
Playing the game for exercise it’s said,
So on the course with cart instead.
But the only exercise that we extol,
Bending our elbow at the “19th” hole.
By Thomas L Shields
