I used to swing a golf club with, in truth., not much prowess
I’d drive and chip then three putt, as I also lacked finesse
I’d hook and slice and thin and fat and even sometimes shank
While others would break 80 I habitually stank
I used to think I’d crack it with lessons and new tech
But in every comp I’d man the decks of another fresh shipwreck
I’ve walked the plank towards quitting but never got that far
Dragged back by dreams of 40 points and some day breaking par
It took a damn pandemic to put the clubs in store
And now I’d kill for just nine holes, no matter what the score
For at long last I’ve learned the scorecard didn’t mean a thing
It was those who joined the battle that made me feel a king
Friends who walked the rough together and shared their own disgraces
Jokers at this stupid game, but in life itself all aces
These days the course lies empty, on the fairways not a soul
All drink now consumed at home in the Covid 19th hole
Golf itself will rise again to drive us all insane
But never let it break you for it’s just a bloody game
We may never groove a downswing or control the curs-ed ball
But it’s the four hours spent with friends that is the greatest gift of all