Tuesday, July 5, 2011

To Chester (who forgot himself) and Me (who wanted to)

and also to P.G. Wodehouse..

I smoke in chains, to make my head go a-spin,
I quench my thirst on a tonic and gin.
Yet I don’t get numb; no spell to break the curse
So I sit at my table and write some free verse.

Alas hades, even that won't cheer my broken-heart blues.
However do I get rid of this jinx?
Thus I grab my clubs, and put on my plus-fours
And trod off for a game on the links.

I hold the wood, my "ee on the ba'"
And "drive 'em straight", not short nor far;
Missing the bunker and over the lake,
A perfect swing, that's hard to make.

The brassie-shot, I "dinna press",
Right on the green, so far.
I take my putter; hole out in two,
Doing it all one under par!

Oh the joy, in this noblest game!
Puts all wounds and sorrows to shame.
So, I tee the ball and take an aim,
Keep my "heid still"; do it all again.


I beat the pro. with a sixty-five,
In amazement he says, "Gosh!"
A woman, you know, is only a woman,
But a hefty drive is a slosh.


Most quotes and ideas are creditable to Wodehouse.

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