Her Logic – Golf Poetry

Her Logic – Golf Poetry


WHEN she's at home she takes a car 
To go two blocks, 
For walking gives her such a jar — 
And jarring shocks ! 
She makes her husband foot the floor 
When baby cries, 
And if she walks or steps a score. 
She almost dies. 

Yet she avows she'll pedestrate 
The links around, 
Nor will her willing walk abate 
Until she's found 
The bottom of the eighteenth hole 
And victory — 
She will endeavor for the goal, 
Though far it be. 

O girl ! Of logic you've not missed 
A single point ; 
The task, you say, is with your wrist, 
Not ankle joint; 
With putter, mashie, brassey, cleek, 
Your walk's inspired, 
But marketing will make you weak. 
And oh, so tired! 

Walter Utting. 

from Lyrics of The Links, 1921

A. Walter Utting was a writer whose work appeared regularly in the New York Times and in syndication. I also found a short story by him in an early “pulp” magazine called The Black Cat (April 1910). I have, however, been unable to find details of his life.

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