Choosing to be great at golf, I bought a golfing book,
Bashing balls for megabucks without a slice or hook?
Balance, grip and leave the wife was Faldo's claim to fame,
Golf clubs branded: "Great White Shark" would guarantee my game.

Bought some DVD's and copied Gary Player's stance,
Tiger taught me how to wield a three wood like a lance;
Johnny Daly's trap shot tricks were magic in the sand,
Days went by - my U.S. Open rookie tour was planned.

Shoes by V.J. Singh and cap as worn by Arnold P.
Putter nine feet long and autographed "Trevino, Lee"
Balls designed by laser beams ingrained with extra spin,
Grabbing all my brand new gear, I headed off to win.

"Rookie gets a wild card" was the headline of the day,
Clad in purple plus-fours, striding to the first to play;
Teeing up, I swear I saw a golden bear walk by,
Swung my club, the crowd all gasped, then gave a sorry sigh.

Later on, I sat in silence, getting drunk on wine,
Broke the old course record of eight hundred ninety-nine;
Paparazzi chased me and the phone rang off the wall,
Same old question: "Tell us if you ever hit the ball!"