The crow on yonder tall fir tree
Looks down and caws at such high jinks,
When Potter played in front of me
The other day upon the links.
The shadows fall on land and sea,
The sun to rest in splendour sinks,
And Potter crouched on hand and knee
Thinks out each putt, and thinks and thinks.
We all got home too late for tea!
My mind with grief and horror shrinks