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A NARRATED POEM FOR GOLFERS ONLY
(Nobody else would understand)

Driving that little old ball five yards for every year of your life may not sound like much when you're forty. But if you're past sixty, like me, that's about a big a challenge as shooting your age - which I still intend to do. Someday. My golfing buddies are all way younger than me and long knockers to boot. And for years, I've tried to keep up. Then one day, on the last hole, the golf gods must have really been in a good mood - some might say downright hysterical. Of course, they could have been as tired as I was of seeing those younger guys gloat all the time over their puny little 260 yard drives. Anyway, you'll want to hear about this. Just follow an old man over to the Eighteenth Hole.

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