GOLF.
As a few well-known citizens indulge, weather permitting, in the grand old game of Golf every Saturday afternoon in Hagley Park, we publish for their benefit tho following poem on the game, written evidently by a Golfer of some experience. We are informed that the description of the play so graphically told in the poem is borne out by the experience of most of our local players. Duffers Let.—By Two Long Spoons.” After Lord H n. After years of play together, After fair and stormy weather, After rounds of every green— Fr.m Westward Ho ! to Aberdeen. Why did e’er we buy a set, If we must be duffers yet! Duffers yet! Duffers yet! After singles, foursomes —all Fractured club and cloven ball; Afler grief and sand and whin — Foozled drives and “ putts ” not in— Ev’n our cadies scarce regret, When we gart as duffers yet. Duffers yet! Duffers yet! After days of frugal fare, Still we spend onr force in air; After nips to give us nerve, Not tho less our drivers swerve ; Friends may back and foes may bet, And ourselves be duffers yet. Duffers yet! Duffers yet! Must it ever then be thus ? Failure most mysterious ! Shall we never fairly stand Eye on ball as club in hand ? Are the bounds eternal set To retain ns duffers yet? Duffers yet! Duffers yot P
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Bibliographic details
Globe, Volume IX, Issue 1361, 25 June 1878, Page 3
Word Count
226GOLF. Globe, Volume IX, Issue 1361, 25 June 1878, Page 3
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