It was a bleak and blustery day,
Winds reminiscent of the cold gales,
That blow the ghosts of St. Andrews,
Off the frigid waters of the North Sea.
As four we plodded towards a common goal,
Defy the forces of nature,
Challenge the laws of physics,
Bring the golf course to its knees.
It was a bleak and blustery day
As men of steel and graphite,
Quivered like frightened little boys,
At the prospect of making par.
Graphics by Tom McHenry Jr. - Painter, Writer, Raconteur.
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