In my hand I hold a ball…. white and dimpled, rather small….

Oh , how bland it does appear…. this harmless looking little sphere….

By its size I could not guess…. the awesome strength it does possess….

But since I fell beneath its spell…. I’ve wandered through the fires of hell….

My life has not been quite the same…. Since I chose to play this stupid game….

It rules my mind for hours on end… A fortune it has made me spend….

It has made me swear and yell and cry…. I hate myself and want to die….

It promises a thing called par…. If I can hit straight and far….

To master such a tiny ball…. should not be very hard at all …

But my desires the ball refuses…. and does exactly like it chooses….

It hooks and slices, dribbles and dies…. and even disappears before my eyes….

Often it will take a whim…. to hit a tree or take a swim…

With miles of grass on which to land…. it finds a tiny patch of sand….

Then has me offering up my soul…. if only it would find the hole….

It’s made me whimper like a pup…. and swear that I will give it up….

And take a drink to ease my sorrow…. but the ball knows…..

I’ll be back tomorrow!!!!

From the Golf Nuts Society