Category Archives: Mental Side

God Rest Ye Merry Golfing Men

God Rest Ye Merry Golfing Men

[Tune: God rest ye merry gentlemen – Traditional]

God rest ye merry golfing men, let nothing you dismay,
Remember Tiger Woods himself doth sometimes hit astray;
And Bobby Jones and Jack Nicklaus had bogies in their day.
So it’s tidings of co-omfort and joy,
Comfort and joy,
So it’s ti-idings of co-omfort and joy.

When you come down to our golf club, your troubles leave behind,
For there you’ll find good golfing folk in tempest, storm and wind,
A-scrabbling in the undergrowth their pick-up balls to find.
So it’s tidings of co-omfort and joy,
Comfort and joy,
So it’s ti-idings of co-omfort and joy.

And after ninety strokes or so, the eighteenth hole’s in sight.
Upon the tee you set yourself to swing with all your might;
One day you’ll catch it as you dream, and send it out of sight …
So it’s tidings of co-omfort and joy,
Comfort and joy,
So it’s ti-idings of co-omfort and joy.


Glass Trophy Small

The Captain’s Lament

The Captain’s Lament

[Tune: Men of Harlech – Traditional]

Please, dear golfer please don’t bore me
With that stale and oft-told story,
How the 4-ball just before ye
Caused the whole delay.

All you golfers pull together,
Just enjoy this lousy weather.
Give this round your best endeavour.
Don’t hold up the play.

If you hit an air-shot,
Play an ‘It went where?’ shot,
Through the green don’t make a scene,
Keep swearwords out of earshot.

Golf will always test your spirit,
Try your patience to the limit,
Keep your head – you yet may win it-
This may be your day.


Golfer Trophy Small 2

Hole of Hope and Glory

Hole of Hope and Glory

[Tune: Land of hope and glory – E Elgar]

Hole of hope and glory,
Should be parr’d in three,
It’s the old, old story,
Your ball’s caught the tree;
Fish it from the river,
Hoping for a four,
Swing, all in a dither,
In the drink once more…
Swing all in a dither,
In the drink once more.

By my calculation,
You’re now playing five,
Come on – concentration,
You’re still just alive;
Smoothly swing and slowly,
Aiming for the pin…
Such anticipation,
I think it’s going in…
What exhilaration,
Yes, it’s going in!

What Can We Do

What can we do to cut our scores

[Tune: God is Working His Purpose Out – MD Kingham]

What can we do to cut our scores
And our handicaps decrease?
We’ve read all the books,
And consulted the Pro.
Our efforts have not ceased.
We’ve hit lots o’ balls on the driving range,
And putts on the practice greens.
But when we tee it up
On the golf course itself,
All we get are comical scenes.

Our drive at the first is out of bounds.
On the second we’re in the sand.
Lost on the third;
In the pond on the fourth;
And the fifth gets out of hand:
In the lake at the sixth;
The seventh as well;
The eighth just drags on and on.
On the ninth hit a cow,
And when we turn for home,
All our early ho-opes are gone.

Now, old pal, just get a grip,
And steady down your swing.
Keep your eye on the ball,
And your feet on the ground,
And hit the ‘wee white’ thing.
Bear up, my friend, you’re homeward bound,
There’s just nine holes to play.
With a par here and there
And a chip dropping in,
You may yet rede-em the day.

TROPHY VSmall

Somewhere Over The Rainbow

Somewhere over the Rainbow

[Tune: Somewhere over the rainbow – H Arien]

Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high
Some day over the rainbow,
Why won’t my best shots fly?

Sometimes, when standing on the tee
I close my eyes, pretend to see,
My tee shot soaring:
And then I ope’ my eyes again
And swing my driver, all in vain,
It’s so damn galling.

One day over the rainbow,
There don’t cry,
One day over the rainbow,
Far and so sure they’ll fly.

Golf Is a Many-Splendour’d Thing

Golf is a many splendour’d thing

[Tune: Love is a many splendour’d thing – S Fain]

Golf is a many splendour’d thing
The long putt holed,
The pitch so bold,
And the perfect swing.
When you cream a lovely draw ball
To th’amazement of your fourball…
Golf’s a many splendour’d thing – Oh sing!

Golf has its melancholia too.
When the east wind blows
On your frozen nose
And your hands turn blue;
And your partner keeps tut-tutting
At your imbecilic putting,
It tries the patience of the Holier’you.

Spring sees my golfing spirits rise.
The birdies all,
With their siren call,
Wake my sleeping eyes.
To the sunlit tee I hurry
And I swing without a worry,
And win the annual Rabbit’s Prize – Surprise!
I’ve won the annual Rabbit’s Prize.

WoodenSpoon Prize

Horrible Morning

Oh, what a horrible morning

[Tune: Oh, what a beautiful morning – Richard Rodgers]

Oh, what a horrible morning,
Oh, what a terrible day;
I’ve got a worrying feeling,
Golf is a game I can’t play.

I keep hooking my drives in the cornfield
And my irons all end in the ha-ay;
My lay-ups and pitches keep finding the ditches,
And I sense that today ain’t my day…

Oh, what a horrible morning,
Oh, what a terrible day;
I’ve got a worrying feeling,
Golf is a game I can’t pla-ay…
Oh, what a worrying day.

Every Time I Tee My Ball

Ev’ry time I tee my ball

[Tune: Ev’ry time I say goodbye – Cole Porter]

Ev’ry time I tee my ball I sigh a little.
Ev’ry time I tee my ball I wonder why a little.
Golfing gods above me, you must know how I play,
If you were thinking of me, you would keep me away.
In my head I dream of scoring pars and birdies,
I’m the up-and-coming golfing star, the word is.
Here’s the prize, just grab it —
But how strange the change from tiger to rabbit,
Ev’ry time I tee my ball.
Ev’ry single time I tee my ball.

Golfing Star

Bob Rotella:  Golf is not a game of Perfect.

Who Wants to be a Golfing Star

[Tune: Who wants to be a millionaire – Cole Porter]

Who wants to be a golfing star, I don’t
Drive every tee-shot mighty far, I don’t
Who wants to always putt out each hole in par.
What each hole in par?
That’s going too far.
Who wants to chip in every time, I don’t
Never hit putts that run off line, I don’t
Or hole out with a horrid miscue, I don’t
And I don’t –
But I’d just like one 2.

Who wants to always miss the sand, I don’t
Have every stroke go just as planned, I don’t
Cream each approach so that it always drops in,
That would be a sin –
If they all went straight in.
Who wants to always clear the pond, I don’t
Always to land way, way beyond, I don’t
Who wants to strike each iron shot true, I don’t
And I don’t –
(slow) And that’s not what I do…and nor do you!

The Mystery of Golf

 

Arnold Haultain on the Mental Side

To sum up, then, in what does the secret of golf lie? Not in one thing; but in many. And in many so mysteriously conjoined, so incomprehensively interwoven, as to baffle analysis. The mind plays as large a part as the muscles; and perhaps the moral nature as large a part as the mind. Suffice it to say that all golfers know that golf must be played seriously, earnestly; as seriously, as earnestly, as life…

Arnold Haultain: The Mystery of Golf ; Macmillan 2nd ed. 1912, p. 243]

The Mystery of Golf

[Tune: Ah, Sweet Mystery of Life – V Herbert]

Ah, sweet mystery of golf, at last I’ve found you,
Ah, sweet mystery of golf, at last you’re mine;
When those fluffs, and hooks and slices would confound you,
The key within your inner self you’re sure to find;
When your ego interferes with your unconscious,
And the tension in your muscles starts to bind,
Just relax into your nat’ral fluid motion
And you, subconsciously, will calm your mind.

Your anxiety’s the enemy within you,
When its tentacles come creeping up unseen.
Do not let its paralysing grasp unhinge you,
As you prepare to play towards the open green.
Just breathe deeply and move to your stillmost centre,
Concentrate your mind on nothing as you swing,
Don’t allow a single nagging doubt to enter,
To golf, your inner self, success will bring.