Monday, June 9, 2008

Golf Love Poem

I think that I shall never see
a hazard rougher than a tree;
A tree o'er which my ball must fly
if on the green it is to lie;
A tree which stands that green to guard,
and makes the shot extremely hard;
A tree whose leafy arms extend
to kill the six iron shot I send;
A tree that stands in silence there,
while angry golfers rave and swear.
Irons were made for warriors like me
who cannot ever miss a tree.
Heheheee... La la la La la..
Oyyyeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa......

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