For One His Age He's Not Learnt Much
The old fellow Bill he spoke quite loud he must have had drank a few beers
And it would seem he does not have that much between his ears
And anyone of Irish race at him would take offence
For one his age he's not learnt much and he doesn't make much sense.
Of his fellow golf club members he did not like they are Irish he did say
And these of course are put down words when used in such a way
And by putting down a few he disliked he put down a whole race
As he spoke into a microphone in a very public place.
To Bill it might have seemed a joke but such a joke can go too far
When used in a golf club rooms or tavern or in a public bar
One would think he would have more sense that he'd have reached that stage
But to him it doesn't seem to apply that wisdom comes with age.
At the Eastwood Golf Club rooms in Kilsyth he took the microphone
One who ought to have better sense he should have stayed at home
For by putting down a few he disliked he put a whole race down
And the victims of racism not always black or brown.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Golf Writer (To Kevin)
The golf writer has become famous for a while the toast of the town
But a few locals with him not happy they feel that he has put them down
It's that he has a humorous streak in him and with his words he does not mean offence
Some people in their feelings precious and they lack a bit in common sense,
The golf writer is a nice fellow he likes a good laugh and a beer
His humor comes out in his writing he is a creator of cheer
He never does take life too seriously devoted to family and wife
One might call him happy go lucky he does his best to enjoy life
There ought to be more people like him some do take life too seriously
So down to earth and so very witty and few are as generous as he
So many look forward to his golf column and such witty articles he write
Though always one to feel offended in humor some do feel some slight,
Around the town well known and well liked his best to please others he try
He is such a likeable fellow and he would not harm a fly.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Golf Tees Lament
Golf tees on my dresser
Golf tees in my bed
Golf tees on my pillows
Where they poke me in my head
Golf tees in my closet
Falling from my shirts and pants
Golf tees along the baseboards
Just like army ants
Golf tees in the carpet
And underneath my feet
Golf tees lined up on the mantle
Oh, they look so neat
Golf tees in my couch
And in my back and thighs
When I sit and watch TV
I feel those little guys
Golf tees in the kitchen
In Jurassic coffee mugs
Sometimes when I pass them
They look like prehistoric bugs.
Golf tees in the bathtub
Like sailors on plastic ships
Golf tee in her make-up
Like little bald q-tips.
Golf tees in the attic
Golf tees in the shed
Golf tees, golf tees everywhere
I wonder where they bred?
Golf tees out the backdoor
Like Hansel-and-Gretel’s trails
Golf tees in the flowerbeds
Among the mulch and snails
Golf tees in my car
And underneath the mats
Golf tees in the backseat
Like little baseball bats
But when I am at the golf course
I ask my partner, like a louse…
“May I borrow some of your tees? ”
I left mine at the house!
poem by Larry Buddin
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Welcome To The Club
I couldn't help but overhear you talkin' to yourself
How she slipped right through your hands
And in between all of the four letter words
You said you're never gonna understand
You gave her everything you thought she wanted
Now all you want is gone
You're just one of many broken hearted
Wonderin' what went wrong
Welcome to the club
Don't be thinkin' you're the only one
Whose heart was in a hit and run
While you looked the other way
As you're howlin' at the moon
Take a look around the room
At all your fellow fools of love
Welcome to the club
Over in the corner is old Larry John
Gettin' over wife number two
And sittin' next to him is a regular here
They're as lonely as me and you
We got one thing in common when we walked in
A memory we're tryin' to kill
Swearin' up and down we'll never try again but We know we will
Welcome to the club
Don't be thinkin' you're the only one
Whose heart was in a hit and run
While you looked the other way
As you're howlin' at the moon
Take a look around the room
At all your fellow fools of love
Welcome to the club
Welcome to the club
Welcome to the club
Welcome to the club
Welcome to the club
song performed by by Tim McGraw from Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Their Actions Never Made Sense
'What is the matter?
You look as if you've been told a joke? '
No.
But you can look at it that way.
I just spoke to a fool.
'Oh? '
Yeah.
Accused me of being aloof and distant.
As if I thought I was better than the others.
As if I did not want to be bothered with them.
'You're not talking about those same people?
Why don't you just ignore them? '
I try but I can't.
It was great when they ignored me,
And walked around with their noses in the air.
In fact,
I welcomed it
They believed me to be beneath them.
'What changed? '
I guess they discovered I didn't care.
And I was totally happy with peace of mind.
'Is that why you're smiling? '
For the most part.
I was just chastised,
For not accepting an invitation.
'Chastised?
That doesn't make a bit of sense.'
That's why I'm smiling.
I was just told,
I offended those in the clique.
You know...
The ones in the 'inner circle'?
The movers and shakers?
The same folks who announced I was a joke?
'But why are they bothering you? '
That's why I'm smiling.
It took this this long to realize they are crazed.
And 'now' that it has been validated...
They believe I am worthy to be embraced.
'That doesn't make a bit of sense! '
Would you stop saying that!
That's why I am smiling.
Their actions never made sense,
From the beginning.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nobody Spoke (for Karen)
Nobody spoke to Lucy,
nobody spoke at all,
ain't no joke
nobody spoke.
nobody spoke
for five long years
ain't no joke
nobody spoke.
Lucy withdrew
without a clue
why nobody spoke,
nobody spoke
for five long years,
nobody spoke
Ain't no joke
nobody spoke!
Lucy went mad
she went crazy!
She screamed
she cried, she sobbed,
but nobody spoke,
for five long years
Ain't no joke
nobody spoke.
Many years later
she saw them,
those people she wanted
to be her friends.
but ain't no joke
nobody spoke,
nobody spoke
for five long years.
Ain't no joke
nobody spoke.
Lucy left a note
in daddy's drawer,
put on her very best dress.
Did her hair in a very fine way
and walked into the hall as a guest.
She walked up to the folk
that never spoke,
said hello in an ordinary way,
then she pulled out a gun
and opened fire.
Yes she shot all those folk
on that day.
Now they were silent
now they were still,
cos ain't no joke
that nobody spoke
and now
they never will.
poem by Ruth Walters
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The Bloke Is Broke
The bloke is broke
Takes a coke and lots of smoke
Stroke a joke and leaves the yoke
Spoke and poke and went back folk
Remembering baroque
With a golf stroke
Scrubs an oak with
Another sick joke
Woke and evoke
And even provoke
A gun smoke
Goes amok
With a butterfly stroke
Wild with a James Knox
Towards valley oak
spoke a practical joke
Ending with a choke
that broken bloke
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On Reading Of Racism In Ireland
I always feel disappointed when of racism I read
And when I read of it in Ireland I feel very sad indeed
For racism in society should never have a place
And people should never be judged on their colour or their race.
As the Land of saints and scholars Ireland was known Worldwide
And the Irish people suffered and their rights to them denied
But the Irish in their sense of fair play could take a certain pride
And for their human rights and liberty the sons of Ireland died.
Poor migrants from Romania their possessions weigh light
To live and work in Ireland do they not have the right?
They may come un-invited but their numbers only small
And the Irish too are migrants as history will recall.
I read it's the Irish media that fans racism's flame
If this be so of their bad work they must feel a great shame
They cannot say in years to come the fault was never ours
When they first used the noxious spray that poisoned all the flowers.
I am an Irish migrant far from my native shore
And others treat me with respect than that one could not ask for more
A fair go for all people and for everyone fair play
Those words from centuries ago are relevant today.
poem by Francis Duggan
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For A Round Of Golf
For leisure the game that so many do play
For a round of golf 'tis a beautiful day
By the wide slow flowing river that crawls to the sea
Men and women practice their strokes before their evening tea.
As a boy I believed hobby golfers had easy jobs
And that those who enjoyed golf were well to do snobs
But such antiquated thinking not relevant today
As all kinds of classes the game of golf play.
A beautiful day for a beautiful game
For most hobby golfers with no aspirations to fame
After work they go to the golf course in the evening sun
And play the eighteen holes for the sake of fun.
Of the praises of golf everybody doesn't sing
But for the participants a game without physical contact can be such a fun thing
In the golf course by the river that to the sea crawl
The crack of the iron on the stone hard golf ball.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Car Club
Ive been cruisin round the town now with the guys for quite a while
We been thinkin bout starting up a club that shows some class and style
And well get the finest cars
We got a deuce coupe, a stingray, a rail job and an xke
(well start a car club)
Well be the fastest at the drags, man, well really cut some low ets
(well start a car club)
And wipe out the other clubs
Well set a meet, and get a sponsor, and collect some dues
And you can bet that well have our jackets on wherever we cruise
Well get the roughest and the toughest initiation we can find
(well start a car club)
And if you want to try to get in well really put you through the grind
(well start a car club)
This clubs the very best
Well set a meet, and get a sponsor, and collect some dues
And you can bet that well have our jackets on wherever we cruise
Well get the roughest and the toughest initiation we can find
(well start a car club)
And if you want to try to get in well really send you through the grind
(well start a car club)
This clubs the very best
Start a club, a car club
(start a car club)
Start a club, a car club
(start a car club)
Start a club, a car club
(start a car club)
Start a club, a car club
(start a car club)
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Club Soul City
Pack up your bags
Dont look back
Theres a little place
Out cross the the railroad tracks
If youre broken-hearted
And you dont know what to do
But they got a place down there thats just for you
Club soul, club soul city, yeah yeah yeah
Club soul, club soul city, oh yeah
Theres a waitress at the back bar
Goes with the the guy that runs the place
Shes got hair like a weeping willow
And tears running down her face
Shes seen a lot of guys like you coming around
Looking for something that theyve lost
Or trying to lose something that theyve found
Down at
Club soul, club soul city, yeah yeah yeah
Club soul, club soul city, oh yeah
So if youre down on your spirit
And there aint no-one who cares
If youre lost and youre lonely
You wont be lonely down there
You cant miss it, its just up the highway
On the front door theres a sign that says
Restricted to the losing kind
Club soul, club soul city, yeah yeah yeah
Club soul, club soul city, oh yeah
Club soul, club soul city, yeah yeah yeah
Club soul, club soul city, oh yeah
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Take A Bow!
When you're feeling way above 'par',
And your golf ball is travelling far,
With a 'birdie' to give you a start,
Golfing is an art.
When an 'eagle' soars high in the sky,
As within a deep 'bunker' you try,
To extricate neatly your ball,
Golfing is the call.
When your 'club' just doesn't impel
Your first 'shot' to go very well,
You can't always 'iron' out the fault,
Golfing is difficult.
Now the 'swing' that keeps the ball rolling,
Will need some careful controlling, .
But then down the 'fairway' it flies,
Golfing is exercise.
When you 'angle' your ball at the 'flag',
And you suddenly encounter a snag,
Once the ball goes straight in the 'hole',
Golfing is your goal.
If you're 'putting' well, out on the green,
And your 'stroke' is one worth being seen,
Then go on my friend, take a bow,
Golfing is a WOW!
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If a lot of people gripped a knife and fork the way they do a golf club, they'd starve to death.
I Know Him Only As My Neighbour
I know him only as my neighbour and though I see him most every day
For each of us a struggle for to find words for to say
Whenever we come face to face in the park or on the street
'Tis just a hello in passing we don't chat when we meet
The captain of the local golf club similar friends we do not share
For to be elected captain he has to be a good golf player
In local sporting circles he is one quite well known
Like I say we share little in common but then to each their own
Amongst those who share similar interests the bond of friendship does grow
Those who think alike us we wish to get to know
I do see and meet him often though not every day
And a hello in passing is all we have to say.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The majority of people who buy homes in golf course communities don't play golf. Golf is way down at the bottom in terms of total numbers and growth.
quote by Ed McMahon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Doesn't Make Sense
Wait a minute?
That doesn't make sense!
Because you have become successful...
Doing what you have always done,
They feel you will become less successful,
If they ignored you?
I don't get it!
That doesn't make sense!
Haven't they always ignored you?
And you, them?
Wait a minute?
That doesn't make sense!
If you ignored them better than they have ignored you,
Wouldn't that make you even more successful?
And that's what you've done in the first place?
Maybe they're trying to get you to notice they're ignoring you?
And you're not paying them any attention?
But that's what's going on anyway?
Wait a minute?
That doesn't make sense!
'I know!
And less of it is being made everyday!
Hopefully this will become very lucrative? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Un Security Council Club
I remember when the UN was considered good and great,
But something strange has happened and now they are extremely irate,
And why are we so disliked in that very strange NY place?
Why were we banned from their Security Council rat race?
Their Durban III anti Israeli stance is a global disgrace,
Has the UN ran it’s course or is this only a test case?
Or has it become a hindrance and likely to cause more trouble?
Is it possible that someone somehow could burst their bubble?
Or has it turned into an exclusive inner circle club?
Where Canada is likely to get a daily or frequent snub?
Should we tell them to shove it and quickly march out the door?
Or should we take the insult and wait and see if there’s more?
Jan 5th,2011
poem by James Bredin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Ageing Golfer's Dream
His great dream in his fifties is to emulate his son
Who was lucky enough to score a hole in one
Which is something in golf that is quite rare indeed
Where many do fail few can hope to succeed
A far better golfer than his son it is said
By those in the know who rate the ageing golfer ahead
Of anyone else in the local golf club
I only say here what I hear in the pub
From the local amateur golfers who enjoy their weekend game
Who play for the love of it not for the fame
As a golfer the young man in his twenties with his dad can't compare
For the father indeed is a far better player
But the father has yet to hit a hole in one
And on that score alone 'tis one up for the son.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Where It's At
There's a destination a little up the road
From the habitations and the towns we know
A place we saw the lights turn low
With the jig-saw jazz and the get-fresh flow
Pulling out jives and jamboree handouts
Two turntables and a microphone
Bottles and cans just clap your hands just clap your hands
Where it's at
I got two turntables and a microphone
Where it's at
I got two turntables and a microphone
Where it's at
I got two turntables and a microphone
Where it's at
I got two turntables and a microphone
Take me home in my elevator bones
Pick yourself up off the side of the road
With your elevator bones and your whip-flash tones
Members only
Hypnotizers move through the womb like ambulance drivers
Shining shoes with your microphone blues
Here-suits with your parachute fruits
Passing the dutchie from coast to coast
Let the man get loose while I rock the most
Where it's at
I got two turntables and a microphone
Where it's at
I got two turntables and a microphone
What about those who swing both ways
song performed by by Beck from Odelay
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Synopsis for Thad
A member of an alien race
I mingle with the populace.
There’s not a lot of difference
except I have an extra sense.
I can read minds quite easily
and what I learn displeases me.
Few care about their fellow man.
Most do not give a tinkers damn.
Soon I must submit my report
I’ve given it a lot of thought,
I do not think the human race
is ready yet to take its place.
In the stellar community.
They have not reached maturity
They’re well developed technically
but are retarded morally.
It makes me sad but it is true.
They are not as yet ready to
be considered civilised.
They have not even recognised.
That they are kept in quarantine.
Just as they have always been.
By races wiser far than they
who make quite sure that they can’t stray.
From their small island galaxy
to spread their brand of anarchy
at will across the universe.
I can imagine nothing worse.
Perhaps I have been here too long.
I must admit I could be wrong
I see them as a hopeless case.
A fierce barbarian warlike race.
Another thousand years or so.
Might be enough to let them grow
beyond their adolescent stage
their flashes of insensate rage.
If they are thwarted in their aims
Like children play their nasty games.
I think that we should leave them be
continue watching carefully.
For any shred of evidence to show
they’ve learnt sufficient sense.
To treat each other honestly
communicating mentally.
Although they broadcast and receive
they can’t control it. I believe
that their aggression stems from fear
Which hopefullywill disappear
when they can use telepathy.
Communicating openly.
Its been a strange experience
to realise the difference.
Between races who cannot lie
and men who lie instinctively.
My tour of duty’s nearly done
and very soon I will be gone.
Back to where thoughts flow mind to mind
and leave this wretched world behind.
Although they have my sympathy.
It can’t come fast enough for me.
1-Apr-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Happy Sadness of Golf
It’s not a sport or pastime … and usually not fun.
You’re reduced to a mumbler before you are done.
The book says to hit against your left side.
Seems like hitting the ball is what should be tried.
Then there’s that bit about not moving your head.
That’ll be no problem … as soon as you’re dead.
Down and behind the ball is what they say.
Just more of the same … your game’s going that way.
And what’s the deal about a full shoulder turn?
One try and it’s wheelchair racing to learn.
And be sure your follow-through finishes high.
No matter your shot’s an unplayable lie.
Or maybe your release wasn’t just right.
Keep the faith, hacker, the nineteenth’s in sight.
Then they wreck the course with water and rough.
Just making small holes is rotten enough.
Ah, putting; yes, putting … what a miserable part.
A three-footer with a break can tear out your heart.
The worst things of all are those ugly out-of-bounds
With their penalty strokes and club-throwing sounds.
Lessons, hope and practice … no, they’ll never pay.
Watch golf on tv … you’ll be saner that way!
poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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