He dressed the part of a golfer…a really cool ‘cat’. Some had to admit, “Those pants and shirts are ‘PHAT’!” Others threw insults. Totally unaware that,
This guy could give as good as he got. (Tit for tat!)
The course that he played on, resembled a cell Didn’t matter, though. (For golf, there he’d dwell). His hunger for golf, was hard to quell
This was apparent to everyone. Anyone could tell!
Nice guy, generally. (But on the course, meant war)! His concentration …laser. (His drives went far). Many smashing the windshields, of parking lot cars) His opponents afterwards, needed a trip to the bar!
Wouldn’t bend to the pressure. (Would not bow). He’d take his sweet time. (Like some cud-chewing cow). His rivals, all, were secretly wowed
Asking themselves, “What do I do now?”
Forced to admit, they were deep in the ‘quag’ Their game, his brilliance, by the collar did drag. For defeat, their chances, were inevitably ‘tagged’ Not soon to be forgotten. (Forever to be nagged).