As the new guy he didn’t want to seem too eager… not a glutton.
No grinning on the course. (Not even while puttin’!) Wait your turn at the green…No cuttin’ in Decorum. Nobility….All that or nothin’!
The dress code was ‘rich’ and very chic
So his shoes had to go (as they moved with a creak). Unfortunately this time, his wallet was ‘weak’ The manager informed him—a new pair he must seek.
At that, what could he say? He had to be mute. Payday was next week…he had no ‘loot’. He thought of an answer, something real cute But held it back. (Too easy to refute!)
His pockets were empty; not even a ‘quid’. Today his wallet lived on the ‘row called ‘SKID’! This broke state he wanted farewell to bid, Along with those shoes. (Next week he’d be rid!)
But until then, he had to be nimble.
The manager’s heart strings he’d play like a cymbal. To be allowed to play, he’d even shiver and tremble. And appeal to his good graces, ever so careful.