AN ODE TO GOLF
Your first golf shot of the day
Is never made to order.
Rarely down the middle,
It's usually in the water.
Your second slices in the woods...
A place no man dare tread.
Your gutsy third comes wizzing back,
Almost taking off your head.
You chip your fourth back into play.
Your fifth lands in the beach.
Your sixth sprays sand but it's still there,
Your seventh just might reach.
Oh well, two putts for nine,
It happens now and then.
Oh no! My ninth just rimmed the cup.
Oh DRAT!! I took a ten!
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