”Golf is cool, right?”, he’d often question.”Really hip?” ”Was it the IT? thing to do?” (Or was he just a ‘drip’?) Did his ‘game face’ need a ‘tuck and nip’?
Hopefully, the answer wouldn’t require a stiff upper lip.
”YES! Golf just had to be cool!”
(Nothing else seemed to make him drool!) No one could talk him out of it. (He was a ‘mule’!) Golf, it would seem, had made him her ‘tool’!
He wanted to devour this game (to the cob) Didn’t see it as work. (No laborious job). Though he must admit, his time it did rob Often in over his head. (Like a cork that bobbed)!
People questioned his sanity. (But he was sane!) He had not gone down ‘Dorothy’s Lane!’
The thought he was throwing his time down the drain ”How could this sport be anything but bane?!”
Though he wasn’t one to believe in fate
He very strongly believed that golf was his MATE! This game appeared to love keeping him late Whatever it was…golf had strong bait!