The trouble with golf
Golf is a game that outrages my mind.
The harder I try the more that I find,
No pleasure to me, in fact it's a strain,
Just one good day and the next is a pain.
Each stroke I trust the ball to go true. But
Each flight I follow, I know that I blew.
Hook it, or slice it, or shank a fat shot,
My blood pressure always goes up allot.
My problems are more then one in my case,
And one is to keep my temper in place.
Just to be calm in the face of defeat.
Is one that is very hard to repeat.
For all of the time invested and stayed,
And all of the time I've miserably played.
I just cannot think of one good reason,
I shouldn't sign up for one more season?