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

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