Comes the day in the life of a golfer When there’s nothing that seems to go right When he feels that his future is hopeless While he’s searching, in vain, for the light. When his swing seems distorted and awkward And he’s missing his putts by the yard, When he catches the lip of each bunker, And finally tears up his card! Then the sun fails to shine in his heaven, Lady Luck has deserted his star, While his confidence gradually dwindles, And he feels he could kick as far!! It is then that golf’s Guardian Angels, Ever watchful for “Tormented Souls” Decide that they don’t wish to lose him, To Tennis, Budo or Bowls So they grant him one shot – near perfection, To the heart of the very last green, The most beautiful shot of his lifetime, Or the rest of his fourball have seen And thus he returns to the Clubhouse With a shot about which he can boast, While gloomy thoughts fly out the window Over tea and some hot buttered toast. Then the very next Saturday morning Forgetting his bad shots galore, You will find him right there, With a confident air ON THE TEE – FULL OF HOPE – FORE SOME MORE!!