id	author	title	date	pages	extension	mime	words	sentences	flesch	summary	cache	txt
31928	Flint, Violet	A Golfing Idyll; Or, The Skipper's Round with the Deil On the Links of St. Andrews			.txt	text/plain	6983	681	94	Now Skipper frien', come tell me true A golfer good, and decent caddie, Jockie was like a bed of sand, But a' things good maun hae an end, 'Good evening, Skipper,' says he sprightly, 'Man, a hundred pounds, I hae nae got, A nose like mine, and fine black een, I played weel up a rattlin' game; Were seen strange forms, like horned apes, My game, I told you had been good, Nine holes to play, eight up I stood. Gone like a flash, I looked and wondered, _One little hole, to save your soul!_ Play up, and man-like save your skin, Old hands, scratch players o' the game, Good player still, an honest man, He little cared to view the scene. Good play or fickle fortune save me, Of Clootie's tail, like the broad arrow, and sic-like exclamation. I'm like the chield in Bunyan's story, I, grim auld pilgrim, in like manner,	./cache/31928.txt	./txt/31928.txt