I once found the zone, I was hot;
Eight holes without missing a shot.
Then came the ninth green,
A disastrous scene.
Shoot par on the front? I guess not.
My tee shot was totally yanked.
As my ball hit the rough my heart sank.
I miss hit a chip
with a bad chilly dip
and I knew that my golf game had tanked.
One shot at a time, they say;
A thought that is hard to obey.
Once I start thinking,
Soon I am peeking
And throwing my back nine away.
It seems that my swing just goes missing.
Perhaps I should take up bass fishing.
It’s such a shame
It makes me insane
This driving and putting and pitching.
And though I may whine and complain
It’s only just me I can blame.
For better or worse
Loving golf is a curse
And tomorrow I’ll look for a game.
