LAYS FROM THE LINKS
I.—The History of a Match.
Let A be the Links where I went down to stay,
And B the man whom I challenged to play:—
C was the Caddie no golfer's without,
D was the Driver I used going "out":
E was the Extra loud "Fore!" we both holloa-ed,
F was the Foozle which commonly followed:
G was the Green which I longed to approach,
H was the Hazard which upset the coach:
I was B's Iron-shot (he's good for a younker),
J was his Joy when I pitched in the bunker.
K was the Kodak, that mischief-contriver,
L was B's Likeness—on smashing his driver:
M was the Moment he found out 'twas taken.
N was his Niblick around my head shaken:
O was the Oil poured on waters so stormy,
P was the Putt which, next hole, made me dormy.
Q was the Quality—crowds came to look on:
R the Result they were making their book on:
S was the Stymie I managed to lay,
T was Two more, which it forced him to play;
U was the Usual bad work he let fly,
V was the Vengeance he took in the bye.
W the Whisky that night: I must own
X was its quantity—wholly unknown;
Y were the Yarns which hot whisky combine with,
Z was the Zest which we sang "Auld Lang Syne".
II.—A Toast.
Fill up your glasses! Bumpers round
Of Scotland's mountain dew!
With triple clink my toast you'll drink,
The Links I pledge with you:
The Links that bind a million hearts,
There's magic in their name,
The Links that lie 'neath every sky,
And the Royal and Ancient Game!
A health to all who "miss the globe,"
The special "stars" who don't;
May thousands thrive to tee and drive
As Jehu's self was wont!
No tee without a caddie—then
The caddies will acclaim!
A health, I say, to all who play
The Royal and Ancient Game!
Long life to all who face the foe,
And on the green "lie dead"!—
An envied lot, as all men wot,
For gallant "lads in red":
Where balls fly fast and iron-shots plough
Win medals, trophies, fame;
Your watchword "Fore!" One cheer—two more—
For the Royal and Ancient Game!
Then "toe and heel it" on the green
(You'll make your partner swear),
But I'll be bound your dance, a round,
With luck will end all square
Win, lose, or halve the match—what odds?
We love our round the same;
Though luck take wing, "the play's the thing,"
The Royal and Ancient Game!
Then, Royal and Ancient Game, accept
This tribute lay from me;
From me then take, for old sake's sake,
This toast—Long life to thee!
A long, long life to thee, old friend—
None worthier the name—
With three times three, long life to thee,
O Royal and Ancient Game!
Short-sighted Lady Golfer. "Hi! have you seen a golf-ball fall anywhere here, please?"
[Victim regards ball with remaining eye.]
Very mild Gentleman (who has failed to hit the ball five times in succession). "Well ——"
Up-to-date Caddy (producing gramophone charged with appropriate expletives). "Allow me, sir!"
[Mild Gentleman DOES allow him, and moreover presents him with a shilling for handling the subject in such a masterly manner.]
First Golfer (to Second Golfer, who is caught in a bunker). "Well, Jones told me this morning he did this hole yesterday in four."
Second Golfer (who stammers). "If Jones s-s-said he did it in four, he was a l-l-l-l——"
First Golfer. "Steady, friend, steady!"
Second Golfer. "——he was a l-lucky beggar!"