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 In my hand I hold a ball
White and dimpled, and rather small
Oh how bland it does appear, this harmless looking little sphere
By its size I could not guess,
Of the awesome strength it does possess
But since I fell beneath its spell, I've wandered through the fires of hell
My life has not been quite the same, since I chose to play this stupid game
It rules my mind for hours on end, a fortune it has made me spend
It has made me curse and made me cry, and hate myself and want to die
It promises me a thing called Par, if I hit it straight and far
To master such a tiny ball, should not be very hard at all
But my desires the ball refuses, and does exactly as it chooses
It hooks and slices, dribbles and dies, and disappears before my eyes
Often it will have a whim, to hit a tree or take a swim
With miles of grass on which to land, it finds a tiny patch of sand
Then has me offering up my soul, if only it would find the hole
It's made me whimper like a pup, and swear that I will give it up
And take to drink to ease my sorrow, but the ball knows ... I'll be back tomorrow!
Stand proud you noble swingers of clubs and losers of balls.... A recent study found the average golfer walks about 900 miles a year. Another study found golfers drink, on average, 22 gallons of alcohol a year. That means, on average, golfers get about 41 miles to the gallon. Kind of makes you proud. Almost feel like a hybrid.
sent in by Peter Obrien |
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