Plus fours, flashy sweaters and electric carts
Its golf, so you must dress the part
Carbon fibre clubs with big heads and a lob wedge
Must surely give us the edge
When coupled with balls from Calloway
And others guaranteed to fly away
That claim to avoid both slice and fade
Which no dimple invented yet can evade.
To play each hole with no regrets
Keeping strokes to requested index
It’s all so easy we can see
If only it applied to me.
Should I think of all the rules
Or maybe join all the other fools
Who only just strike the ball
And never seem in trouble at all.
Positive thinking seems to be
The measure which works best
A smashing thunder strike I see
Could remove all problems from my brain
Leading to eternal fame
Yet who is it that gets more fun
A soixante neuf or a 101?