Bunkered – Golf Poetry

BUNKERED 

I've been slicing and sclaffing and foozling", 
And I'm up to the burn in eighteen, 
With my hopes growing steadily dimmer 

Of reaching the far away green. 

When I think of the strokes I've recorded. 

From oaths I can hardly refrain. 
More than once I've been bunkered already, 
And I'll shortly be bunkered again. 

Bunkered again ! Bunkered again ! 
I'm sure to be bunkered again ! 

The foursome behind me are swearing, 
And repeatedly shouting out "Fore !"
They are dropping approach shots behind me. 

And preparing to level some more. 

And though I am hitting my hardest, 

And pressing with might and with main. 
Here I am at the edge of the bunker, 

And I'm bound to be bunkered again. 

In it again ! In it again ! 
I'm bound to be in it again ! 

I have topped it each time with the iron ; 

I can't use the mashie at all; 
Cleeks and brasseys are out of the question 

When you've got to get under the ball. 

I'll try a full swing with the niblick — 

I'm told it will stand any strain ; 
So it does — no, confound it, it doesn't! 
Plump into the bunker again. 

In it again ! In it again ! 
Plump into the bunker again ! 

Anonymous, from Lyrics of the Links, 1921