Nine Little Golf Holes – Golf Poetry

Nine Little Golf Holes – Golf Poetry

NINE little golf holes — bogey thirty-three 
Duffer badly tops his ball driving from the tee. 

Eight little golf holes — first one cost eleven — 
Buried in a bunker deep. Now there are seven. 

Seven little golf holes. What an awful fix ! 
Three balls swimming in the brook. Now there are six. 

Six little golf holes. When he tried to drive, 
Sliced into the high grass. Now there are five. 

Five little golf holes. Gracious, how he swore 
As he dug the turf up. Now there are four. 

Four little golf holes. Stymied by a tree ; 
Ball stuck in the branches ! Now there are three. 

Three little golf holes. Sphere fairly flew; 
But he missed a six-inch putt. Now there are two. 

Two little golf holes. In his face the sun ; 
Approaching, overran the green. Now there is one. 

One little golf hole. Down a steep incline. 
Driver's broken, ball is lost. Score is ninety-nine. 

by Anonymous, in the 1921 collection, Lyrics of the Links

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