TEE, TEE, ONLY TEE!
(Song of the Golf Enthusiast. After Thomas Moore)
Air—"Thee, thee, only thee."
The dawn of the morn, the daylight's sinking,
Shall find me on the Links, and thinking,
Of Tee, Tee, only Tee!
When rivals meet upon the ground,
The Putting-green's a realm enchanted,
Nay, in Society's giddy round
My soul, (like Tooting's thralls) is haunted
By Tee, Tee, only Tee!
For that at early morn I waken,
And swiftly bolt my eggs and bacon,
For Tee, Tee, only Tee!
I'm game to start all in the dark,
To the Links hurrying—resting never.
The Caddie yawns, but, like a lark,
I halt not, heed not, hastening ever
To Tee, Tee, only Tee!
Of chilly fog I am no funker,
I'll brave the very biggest bunker,
For Tee, Tee, only Tee!
A spell that nought on earth can break
Holds me. Golf's charms can ne'er be spoken;
But late I'll sleep, and early wake,
Of loyalty be this my token,
To Tee, Tee, only Tee!
Golf caddies are now very much in the public eye. The education of some of them is certainly not all that it should be. "Here's an honour for us!" cried one of them excitedly the other day, as he pointed to a paragraph in the paper headed, "King Alfonso visits Cadiz."