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Here is a little poem for all you golfing fanatics out there. When you read it, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. Enjoy !

 

The Round From Hell

By Jerry Clark

 

I met the guys at half past eight

They all complained ‘cause I was late

They teed their balls and hit ‘em straight

But mine bounced off the clubhouse gate

 

 

We came to two, a long par four

The guys got bogies, I got the mower

The man looked mad, I did yell fore

He must have heard me above the roar

 

 

The hole on three was 509

I planned to pass their balls with mine

I teed it up and checked the line

The guys took cover behind a sign

 

 

The club head speed was next to light

I hit that pill with all my might

the ball shot off clean out of sight

100 straight, 300 right

 

 

The way to four didn’t look so tough

with trees and traps and knee high rough

A drive and eight should be enough

I never found that ball I duffed

 

 

The par four five I hit the pole

This could be a birdie hole

And then the ball begin to roll

It rolled and rolled and rolled and rolled

 

 

Then came the sixth with water tight

I pulled a nine to get some height

I lined it up and shanked it right

My ball skipped twice then sank from sight

 

 

The prettiest hole was number seven

It looked like something straight from Heaven

I’ll find that bunker, that’s a given

I can’t believe I shot eleven

 

The par four eight, this should be fun

Might even get a par plus one

The ball shot left like from a gun

I’m glad that hole is finally done

 

 

Number nine looked pretty hard

It showed a dogleg on the card

I dented the grill in someone’s yard

I hope that doesn’t get me barred

 

 

We made the turn and started ten

A long par three we did begin

I hit the ball straight at the pin

It hit the green and rolled right in

 

 

A hole in one I finally made

The guys rushed over to give me aide

That’s when my sight began to fade

I don’t know how long there I laid

 

 

When I came to on grassy ground

I sat up slow and looked around

My ears perceived a deafening sound

The guys were jumping up and down

 

 

I walked on back to waiting cart

And had a beer, then marked my card

For number eleven we did depart

I still could feel my pounding heart

 

 

Number eleven was just a blur

My swing was smooth, my aim was pure

The guys said I should go on tour

But after twelve they weren’t so sure

 

 

Thirteen was a hole from Hell

I hit a squirrel and as he fell

I swear to Jack I heard him yell

"Hey, I give up, go ring the bell"

 

 

Fourteen, fifteen, not much fun

Just thought about my hole in one

wish sixteen was over and done

Skulled the drive ‘bout 101

 

 

Green seventeen was just ahead

That hole messes with your head

Soft as down the guys all said

to me it was a concrete bed

 

 

I teed eighteen and hit it fat

I did my best and that’s a fact

Bounced it off a luggage rack

And hit the club pro right in the back

 

 

I’m glad to say this round is done

want that burger in a bun

This game is easy, lots of fun

See you guys ‘bout half past one?