Ruffled Feathers by J. J. Webster

Say! Listen mister… there below! YOU on the second tee!

You’ll never make a golfer if you live to ninety three!

You’re nothing but a menace the way you hack that ball

Three out of three are up this tree… you want to kill us all?

I tell you man, since you began you haven’t learnt a thing

I live in dread and duck my head each time you take a swing

You think you’re Arnold Palmer or that Balles – wotsisname

It’s crystal clear you’ve no idea about The Ancient Game.

For many a year I’ve nested here and seen some style of play

I’ve watched ’em rise and watched ’em fall and never rued the day

But, you my friend, are quite the end, you haven’t got a clue

That awkward stance, that dreadful swing and… ugh, that

follow through!

You stomp around, you beat the ground, you misbehave and cuss

You’ll never get a ‘birdie’ but you might get one of us!

And that is why from up on high I do my little bit

I hope it gets you in the eye… you great ham-handed twit!

by J. J. Webster


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Russian and Welsh poetry uploaded on alternating weeks. Occasionally other poems along with reviews of literature, films, theatre, food and drink. Any support via comments, likes, follows and subscribing is appreciated.

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