Swing it slow, grip it soft, I strike the ball but get no loft
Think again what you've been taught, I can't believe I get so fraught Address the ball, posture good, I think I'll take a seven wood Head is still, knees slightly bent, I strike the ball and miles it went Three shots left to get my par, sixty yards to go 's not far I search my bag and choose a wedge, then hook my shot into the hedge Take a drop, now playing five, can I keep this hole alive A short chip forward towards the pin, and then two puts before it's in I hang my head as if in shame, for Gods sake remember it's just a game. |
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