One day on the golf course, I heard this conversation.
Now, what is interesting is that I wasn’t with any of these groups…(maybe…)
I think I hit a tree, and I didn’t see the ball come down. I think it is stuck in the tree.
No, no, no! Don’t go in the sand.
That ball hit the pin and bounced left.
Oh, just hit over the tree. You can do it.
Move that ball out of the mud. No, move it farther. Keep going. Ok, not in that person’s yard.
Oh, come on. Hit your driver. I think you can reach the cart sign.
There is a mud puddle in the middle of the fairway. My ball landed in the middle of it. I saw it splash.
Do we have to hit from here? The tree is in the way. Let’s move the markers to the other tee box.
We haven’t had a hole in one in a long time. Last time Lori said that we got one that day!
Once there was a golfer, a lady golfer was she
Sometimes it was just the game, sometimes it was to see
To see if she could beat her score on a particular course
That creates the pleasure and golfing is the source
Sometimes it will evade her, she works so diligently
But when she is successful, it works magnificently
The ball was up and in the air, then it hit and rolled
Into the cup the ball did go, a sight that never grows old
I knew that she was hooked, by the game we love to play
It has its ups and downs, sometimes the swing will stray
The swing is just our tempo, a dance to figure out
The tempo is a form of art we cannot play without
So, dance away golfing girls, a game that's hard to beat
Make your next shot the best, something ever so sweet
Put that ball in the cup and scream for all to hear
Because I might be listening and will follow with a cheer
