A swing of the club and a “crack” of the ball,
He walks to the marker in a slow crawl.
He lines up the putt and hopes it goes in,
Once he makes it, he shows a great grin.
He writes down a four, it happens to be par.
He packs up his clubs and heads for the car.
He turns in his score, which was his best yet,
Three points lower is what he hopes to get.
His handicap drops but only by two,
He is quite happy because yesterday it grew.
He will come back tomorrow for a better round,
He’ll change his spikes to grip the ground.
When he comes home he hits the hay,
He must get prepared for the next day.
When he wakes up he has to stretch,
He goes to the kitchen, for breakfast to fetch.
He hops in the car and heads for the club,
He takes his lucky ball, which he must rub.
He tees up his ball on the first hole,
The ball goes flying into a grassy bowl.
He hops in his cart and heads for the ball,
In the distance it seems quite small.
Once he gets close he pulls out his wood,
After he hits it the ball flight seems good.
It’s heading for the green and straight for the pin,
He raises his head and watches it sink in.
He eagled the hole, a feat not often seen,
He cheered so loud people thought he was a teen.
He wrote down a two with a pencil, not pen,
And after the next three holes he gathered a ten.
He writes down his last score and starts to head in,
On his face there is a huge grin.
His final score was by far his best,
He will start bragging to his friends and being a pest.
He turns in his score and heads for the car,
Leaving the club, he feels like a star.
The game known as golf is such a fun sport,
It requires a ball yet you don’t need a court.
The man I have described played his best round,
When he had his eagle he rolled on the ground.
He played so well and got his best score,
And will never again have to yell out, “Fore!”