Caddie. "Beg parding, Capting. You won't never get him to go no more than twenty yards ahead. 'E's been used to carrying a flag in front of a steam-roller."
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".