By Jim Corbett

On a trip to the fair Emerald Isle
To see how those Irish eyes smile,
Mr. Golf Etiquette thought,
“Since me clubs I have brought,
Why not play me some golf for a while?”

So Mr. Golf Etiquette hired a caddie
Who was actually a very nice lad; he
Tallied the score
Which was a formidable chore
‘Cause, frankly, Mr. Golf Etiquette played badly.

The conditions encountered were dour.
Lesser golfers would certainly cower,
As we were practically skinned
By the powerful wind
That blew 150 miles per hour.

With the wind blowing right in me face,
Me caddie said, “Hit it with grace.”
So I launched it with verve
But the wind made it swerve
Disappearing with nary a trace.

When my ball landed smack in the hedge
I attacked it like using a sledge.
Me caddie said, “Grand!
But you’re now in the sand.
I believe you’ll be needing your wedge.”

There are many times when playing golf means
Approach shots to well-hidden greens.
But at Lahinch it was found
Though I looked all around,
The fairways were also unseen!

Ballybunion’s a lovely old course,
‘Cept it’s covered with thorny old ‘gorse.’
It’s real thick… never sparse,
And right up to the arse
Of a thoroughbred Irish racehorse.

If you hit there you’ll surely be thwarted
As I found, and was soon broken-hearted
I sent in a fader
and a dozen shots later
Was deeper in than when I started!

I soon tired of the whole dirty bi’ness,
Though I’d longed to play Ireland with finesse.
So I threw ‘way me clubs
And made off for the pubs
And the rest of me “rounds” were of Guinness!