Poem 144 of 230: LINGOLF
(TUNE - IN THE KEY OF B-FLAT MAJOR:
Eb2 G1 G2 G2 A1 A2
A2 Bb2 c3 c1 c2 Bb2
Eb2 F2 G2 A2 A2 A2
F2 A3 Bb2 G3 G2 G3)
Your honour, Your Honour.
Watch out - he’s a burglar.
I’m to school on your putt.
That’s one heck of a cut!
It’s my bread and butter -
A left-to-right cutter.
That’s where elephants die.
That’s a grave - not a lie.
I’m in the old plum-duff;
Tough - I’m on the cut-stuff.
The hooks with my driver,
And fades with my putter.
There’s a goalie in there.
Trees are some nine-tenths air.
I have a soldier’s plight -
Always left, right, left, right.
Everything was fine -
Apart from weight and line.
It took a member’s bounce.
A rare bird to announce.
An unlucky horseshoe.
Had a look - liked the view.
Poetry in motion.
Read with blind devotion.
He’s just hit a cracker.
I’m only a hacker.
I wish I’d missed the well.
A fried-egg where it fell.
A crop of a divot.
It was speed that killed it.
Your wedges land so neat -
Butterflies with sore feet.
Like pitching in pudding.
Never up, never in.
Drive for show/putt for dough.
Can’t beat bad luck, you know.
He’s just missed a gimme.
That, then, would be dormy.
It went in the side-door.
A Bradman of a score.
Just spoiled a good walk.
Can’t play, but can he talk!
'Twas daylight robbery;
Not “how” but “how many.”
The nineteenth’s not too far -
Have a jar at the bar..?
(TUNE - IN THE KEY OF B-FLAT MAJOR:
Eb2 G1 G2 G2 A1 A2
A2 Bb2 c3 c1 c2 Bb2
Eb2 F2 G2 A2 A2 A2
F2 A3 Bb2 G3 G2 G3)
Your honour, Your Honour.
Watch out - he’s a burglar.
I’m to school on your putt.
That’s one heck of a cut!
It’s my bread and butter -
A left-to-right cutter.
That’s where elephants die.
That’s a grave - not a lie.
I’m in the old plum-duff;
Tough - I’m on the cut-stuff.
The hooks with my driver,
And fades with my putter.
There’s a goalie in there.
Trees are some nine-tenths air.
I have a soldier’s plight -
Always left, right, left, right.
Everything was fine -
Apart from weight and line.
It took a member’s bounce.
A rare bird to announce.
An unlucky horseshoe.
Had a look - liked the view.
Poetry in motion.
Read with blind devotion.
He’s just hit a cracker.
I’m only a hacker.
I wish I’d missed the well.
A fried-egg where it fell.
A crop of a divot.
It was speed that killed it.
Your wedges land so neat -
Butterflies with sore feet.
Like pitching in pudding.
Never up, never in.
Drive for show/putt for dough.
Can’t beat bad luck, you know.
He’s just missed a gimme.
That, then, would be dormy.
It went in the side-door.
A Bradman of a score.
Just spoiled a good walk.
Can’t play, but can he talk!
'Twas daylight robbery;
Not “how” but “how many.”
The nineteenth’s not too far -
Have a jar at the bar..?
(Last two lines of tune.)
(C) David Franks 2003
Hear here - http://www.writeoutloud.net/public/blogentry.php?blogentryid=26807
(C) David Franks 2003
Hear here - http://www.writeoutloud.net/public/blogentry.php?blogentryid=26807
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| A jar of Lemon, lime & bitters at Kareela G.C., Sydney; Sept 2011 |
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| Emirates Golf Club; October 2013 |
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| Kenya Railway Golf Club; February 2014 |
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| Houldsworth Golf Club, Manchester; 25/3/17 |
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| Practice area of Lytham & St. Annes; 27/6/18 |
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| "The 19th"of Hong Kong Golf Club; 6/12/19 |
