The Golf Girl – Golf Poetry


IN a jaunty scarlet jacket, 
And a mannish little shoe, 
A hat with a quill and tartan, 
And a skirt to clear the dew ; 
On the grassy links I see her, 

Every glorious summer day. 
And forget to mind my putting 
While I watch her graceful play.

We have met in dreamy waltzes, 

When a rose was on her breast. 
But her partner at the bunkers 

Is the one who knows her best. 
Though the ball is lost forever 

And her hair is out of curl. 
Nothing spoils the sunny temper 

Of the pretty golfing girl. 

If all women once were flowers. 

As an ancient legend tells. 
She has bloomed a sprig of heather 

On the breezy Scottish fells; 
For the wind that roams the bracken, 

And the blue of morning skies. 
Still is rippling in her laughter, 

Still is beaming from her eyes. 

But in gray or golden weather, 

Stepping lightly to the tees, 
Making drives with daring swiftness, 

"Holing out" with merry ease, 
To the painted balls not only 

Does she bring the golfer's arts. 
For with Cupid as her caddie, 

She is playing with our hearts. 

by Minna Irving, in Lyrics of the Links, published in 1921

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