GNOMES FOR GOLFERS.

In April when the cuckoos call

Glue both your optics on the ball.

In May avoid the water-ouzel

Whose warning note predicts a foozle.

In Summer when the lies are good

Propel it smartly with the wood.

In August should the peacock shriek

Renounce the baffy for the cleek;

But if your stroke becomes too "sclaffy"

Give up the cleek and use the baffy.

In Autumn when the lies are clammy

Replace the brassie by the "Sammy."

But when the course is dry and grassy

Replace the "Sammy" by the brassie.

In Winter when the lies are slimy

Be up or in, or lay a stymie.

When caddies chatter on the green

Rebuke them, but remain serene.

But when they hiccough on the tee

Pay them their regulation fee.

Whene'er you chance to top your drive

Before you speak count twenty-five.

But if you slice into the rough

Thirty will hardly be enough.

When beaten by a single putt

You may ejaculate, "Tut, tut."

But if you're downed at dormy nine

Language affords no anodyne.

Where frequent pots the green environ

Take turf approaching with the iron.

No game is lost until it's won;

The duffer may hole out in one.

If down the course the pill you'd punch

Be careful what you eat at lunch.

A simple cut from off the joint

May cure your shots to cover-point.

But lobsters, trifle and champagne

May even prove the plus-man's bane.

"Thereupon the Labour party sang 'The Red Flag,' the deportees joining in the chorus, bearing their heads during the singing."

South Wales Echo.