Tiger's Apology Poem by John F. McCullagh

Thank you, friends, for coming here,
and sitting quietly,
While I read the sixteenth draft
of my apology.

I’m sorry that I hurt my Mom,
my fellow pros on tour,
my charitable foundation too,
by thoughts and deeds impure.

I’m sorry that I let you down.
These last three months were tough
I’ve entered into therapy
to curb my taste for muff.

It’s truly my entire fault.
There’s no one else to blame.
Not one of those platoon of Ho’s
Who’ve cashed in on my name

I cannot blame my lovely wife-
Did you notice she’s not here.-
She had to get the kids at school
While dressed in Nike gear.

There’s been no domestic violence.
Let me make that quite clear
There’s been no domestic anything
since Turkey day last year.

I’m sad my Caddy’s unemployed
And can’t help shoulder Blame.
I’m sorry for the sponsorships
I’ve watched go down the drain

My therapist is curing me
of my mad lust for strange.
My favorite hole is on the course
My home is on the range

I will return to golf one day
and play a round, I’m sure,
I’ll tee it up with Ernie Els
once I’m back on the tour.