A score-card full of 4’s and 3’s.
The bunker cleared, the putt gone done,
And, of all joys the flower and crown,
The well-hit tee-shot’s graceful flight
When everything has gone just right!
Alas! Fate holds for me in store
No chances of a bogey score.
I must send in till I am sick
Cards that defy arithmetic;
Nay, Haply, the Etobicoke