Category Archives: Seniors

We’ll Hope for Birdies in the Spring Again

We’ll Hope for Birdies in the Spring Again
– from the film Perchance to Dream, ‘We’ll gather Lilacs in the spring again’

We’ll hope for birdies in the spring again,
When our arthritis let’s us swing again,
And Ibuprofen has relieved the pain,
So we can play once more.

And through the winter by the firelight’s glow,
We’ll close our eyes and visualise the flow
Of how the swing’s rotation ought to go,
As we doze off and snore.
……….
And though spring’s far away,
And my game’s sad and grey,
I have a dream, a scheme to try.

I’m reading Hogan’s book.
I know how I should look,
When I swing thro-ough, balls will fly.

If I turn back within the plane,
I’ll find the perfect swing to make, again.
……….
And when the spring comes and we’ve cleaned our clubs,
And massaged limbs with analgesic rubs,
Then we discover we’re the same old dubs,
When we add up our scores.

So come and join us in the clubhouse bar.
Let’s stop pretending we’re not what we are.
We’ll just remember those shots straight and far –
Why should we ask for more.

The Scratchman

The Scratchman

[Tune: The Policeman’s song – A Sullivan]

When the dedicated golfer’s not a-golfing, not a-golfing,
When the scratchman isn’t honing up his swing, up his swing,
He loves to watch the Pros upon the tele, on the tele,
And see their many birdies dropping in, dropping in.

When he isn’t busy practising his putting, -sing his putting,
Or chipping all his chip shots to the green, to the green,
He loves to join the Golf Club’s Seniors playing, Seniors playing,
And to contemplate the humour of the scene, O-ho…
He loves to join the Golf Club’s Seniors playing, Seniors playing,
And to contemplate the humour of the scene, of the scene.

Swing Slow

H.F.C. Everard on preparation:

A wise man, therefore, will allow himself ample time for a few preliminary drives, to put his muscles into working order, for to arrive at the teeing-ground flurried and late is to court disaster at the outset.

[H.F.C.Everard: Golf in Theory and Practice; G.Bell & Sons, 1910, p.190]

Swing Slow Old Golfing Man..

[Tune: Swing Low, Sweet Chariot – Traditional]

Swing slow, ol’ golfin’ man
It’s a quicker way to the hole;
Swing slow ol’ golfing man,
For maximum carry and roll.

Up in the mornin’ and rush to the tee
Seeking maximum carry and roll;
Head still spinnin’ an’ stiff as can be,
Swing’s right out o’ control.

Swing slow, ol’ golfin’ man
It’s a quicker way to the hole;
Swing slow ol’ golfing man,
For maximum carry and roll

Ol’ Sam Snead – he swung free,
He got maximum carry and roll.
He said, “Fella, take a tip from me,
Swing slow for carry and roll.”

The scientific study of ‘maximum carry and roll’ was advanced by Professor PG Tait in the 1890’s, assisted by his golfing son Freddie. See the following websites:
http://www-history.mcs.st-andrews.ac.uk/HistTopics/Tait_golf.html
http://www.maths.ed.ac.uk/~aar/papers/taitbio.pdf

I Saw Three Golfers

I Saw Three Golfers Swinging By

[Tune: I saw three ships come sailing in – Traditional]

I saw three golfers swinging by,
Come swinging by,
Come swinging by,
I saw three golfers swinging by,
Through the green in the morning.

And what do you think kept them so spry,
Kept them so spry,
Kept them so spry,
And what do you think kept them so spry,
From tee to green in the morning.

A round of golf, I hear you cry,
You can’t deny,
I tell no lie,
A round of golf kept them so spry,
Out ev’ry day in the morning.

Junior and Senior Golf

Junior and Senior Golf

[Tune: Three little maids from school; The Mikado – A Sullivan]

Twenty wee golfers, bright and early,
Came to our Golf Club’s seminary,
The way that they hit the ball was scary,
Though they were only wee
They hit it firm and free.
[Music – Slower]
Fifty old golfers stiff and weary,
Wedn’sday mornings, eyes still bleary,
Dragged round the course by their trolleys clearly,
Struggling off the tee…
That’s more like you and me…
Oh to be young and free!

The Nineteenth Hole

BEERsmall

The Nineteenth Hole

[Tune: Ye Mar’ners All – Traditional]

Ye golfers all, as you pass by,
Call in and drink if you are dry.
Come spend, my lads, your money brisk,
And pop your nose in a jug of this.

O golfing pals, if you’ve a pound,
You’re welcome all to take your round.
Come spend, my lads, your money brisk
And pop your nose in a jug of this.

O Seniors all, as you pass by,
Come in and drink and do not sigh.
Call in and drink, think not amiss
To pop your nose in a jug of this.

And now I’m old and can scarcely crawl,
My hair’s gone grey and my head’s half bald,
Crown my desire, fulfil my bliss
With a hole-in-one and a jug of this.

Suggestion for the tune

Old Time Medley

Old Time medley – [mainly war-time tunes]

[Tune: Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag – F Powell]
Leave all your tension in your old golf bag and swing, swing, swing.
You won’t have any need to light that fag if you hum a tune or sing:
What’s the use of worrying ’bout where your ball will go – so –
Leave all your tension in your old golf bag and swing, swing, swing.
——
[Tune: It’s a long way to Tipperary – J Judge]
It’s a long way down the eighth hole, there’s a long way to go,
When you can’t reach the bunker with your Sunday best, nor the ditch with your next blow.
Though you’re on the fairway, and half way there in four,
If you keep on a-blasting at that poor ol’ ball, you’ll run up some score….
——
[Tune: Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag – F Powell]
Put back your putter in your ol’ golf bag
And smile, smile, smile.
I heard you mutter, “It was just a lag”,
But your putt missed by a mile.
There’s no use in mutterin’
Nor using language vile!
So — put back your putter in your ol’ golf bag
And smile, smile, smile!
——
[Tune: Who do you think you are kidding, Mr Hitler – D Taverner]
Who do you think you are kidding Mr Golfer when you hand your scorecard in?
Often as not you don’t even print your name,
And then we find that you’ve quite mistook the game.
Who do you think you are kidding Mr Golfer when we come to check your score?
Your handicap may kid you that you’ve made a decent show,
But the truth, if you can face it, may still come as quite a blow…
You watch out Mr Golfer you can’t hope that we can guess
What total you have really scored from this unholy mess…
So – Who do you think you are kidding Mr Golfer when you hand your scorecard in?

Waltzing McGolfer

Waltzing McGolfer

[Tune: Waltzing Matilda – Traditional]

When an honest workman reaches his retirement
‘What shall I do with my time ?’ says he.
Up speaks his wife, ‘I hope you’ll do the Hoovering’ — [pause]
He thinks that golf might be his cup of tea.

Come to the golf club, come to the golf club,
You come a-golfing with my pals and me.
Watching ‘The Open’ imagining he’s Mickleson,
He thinks that golf might be his cup of tea.

Takes up his laptop and navigates to e-ebay
Searches for golf clubs and what does he see —
Right there before him with-ou-out any bids put in
A full set and starting at 99p!

Comes to the golf club, down at our golf club,
He comes a-golfing with my pals and me.
As he strides to the 1st tee imitating Mickleson,
He thinks that golf might be his cup of tea.

Tees up a pick-up, ta-akes out his dri-iver,
Makes a few practice swings – one-two-three.
Steps up to his ball – ta-akes an almighty swipe,
But, sad to say, his ball stays on its tee.

Down at the golf club, home from the golf club,
After he’s downed a beer or three,
Says to himself as he drives back home disconsolate
‘I think that golf’s made a fool out of me.’

Now, 5 years on, he’s joined up with Seniors,
Playing the course quite frequently.
His style of play isn’t yet quite up to Mickleson’s,
But, on his best day, he’s off 23.

Golf with the Seniors, golf with the Seniors,
Out with his four-ball, how happy is he,
Hacking around among this jolly fellowship,
Long may it last, friends, for him and for me.

One Day, When We Were Young

One day when we were young

[Tune: One day when we were young – J Strauss II]

One day when we were young
I drove the ball 300 yards;
You said you could match me
And almost drove as far.

Our long iron approaches
All reached the heart of the green;
And as for our putting
The like has ne’er been seen.

…The 18th… St Andrews
Our drives sometimes got to the pin,
Now, if we nail them,
We’re short of the Valley of Sin.

Now we are old and grey
Our best shots are played in the bar,
“Don’t speak of the old days-
Just buy another jar.”

Jerusalem

Jerusalem

[Tune: Jerusalem – H Parry]

And did those golfers every morn
Walk on the verdant fairways green,
And were their agricultural swings
On our most noble golf course seen;
And did their confidence sublime
Shine forth within this cheerful band,
And was good fellowship builded here
Upon this stretch of rolling land.

Bring drivers bright as burnished gold,
Bring gleaming irons of desire;
Bring me my wedge, to pitch so bold,
My balanced putter hot on fire!
I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my clubs sleep in my hand,
‘Til I achieve a net par round
On this demanding golfing land.

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