Despite his best efforts, he ‘lived’ in the bunker, His old rusty nine-iron was branded a ‘clunker’! In a life ‘over par’, he’d have to hunker,
Loudly in his ears, the jokes of critics would thunder.
Arriving to the green, he was never late. He’d get there even if he had to skate.
Persistence. Dedication….all good golfing traits, To get under par, he couldn’t wait.
He wasn’t consistent, (and his golf game would game would waffle)!
But his bragging friends he wanted to topple. Nine times out of ten his game was aweful! But a rare hole-in-one, was exquisite like truffles!
Gum calmed his nerves. (He always had a packet). A picture of golf pros, to the wall, he’d tack it. Sometimes both, he’d have in his jacket. And pulled it out when he felt he couldn’t hack it!
At the most difficult holes, he’d take a whack. Even if talent seemed to lack.
His ‘station’ seemed continuously ‘behind the pack’. For this, he was mercilessly given flack!