“Golf is Gorilla Warfare”
Ralph Arnold (week-day warrior)
Written after another excruciating day of golf.
October 22, 2001

What possesses a man,
to take a club in his hand,
just to hit a little white ball?
He plans as before,
To better his score,
And plays spring, summer, and fall.

Sometimes I miss it,
Or dub it and chunk it, and
Sometimes I hook it or slice.
Just to grip it, and rip it,
Then hunt it and lose it,
Is to pay the ultimate price.

When I swing to chip,
I lift or I dip,
That causes a blade or a spade.
But a lag is a lay-up,
When you miss your par put,
And this is how bogies are made.

I’m closing in on a perfect round,
When I hit my ball out of bounds.
This game isn’t fair, I’m in total despair,
Because my little bitty putter let me down.

But I’ve come to the conclusion
That’s it’s not my illusion,
That golf is a game of inches.
From tee to green,
And all shots in between,
Is like war when you’re
down in the trenches.

To roll by the cup,
When your partner’s one up,
And there’s no more holes to play.
You lick your wounds,
Because you know real soon,
You’ll be better another day.