Class _{3^Va^Z Book__JAb_ COPYRIGHT DEPOSrr. FORE! THE CALL OF THE LINKS V: ({c.^^^^-y^X-^i'^u^ . I ^taTcall ^, LINKS W\ Hastings VVehlin^ H.M.CALDWELL C^ Publishers t>ostonj> and New York b1 s^^v^ Copyright^ igog By H. M. Caldwell Co. Published simnltaneouslv in the United States, Great Britain, Canada, and British Possessions LC Control Nvomber tmp96 026370 EleeirotyPed and Printed hy THE COLONIAL PRESS C. H. Simonds &' Co., Boston, If. S. A . PREFACE Ignorance like a thick cloud encompassed the Missouri paragrapher who defined golf as shinny with all the fun taken out. It is plain that he was not a golfer. The game is Hke life because it develops so many lost opportunities, and certainly life is the source of all humour. Again it is like life because it brings moments of ecstatic happiness. It produces inspiration, and inspiration begets poetry. So that as golf can induce both humour and poetry the advent of the author is strictly logical. Golfers yet unborn will meet difficulties. They will top their drives, they will be bunkered, they will lose balls. Should they not have the satisfaction of reading in graceful verse that they were duffers " in the elder days of art " ? How else can such an opportunity be af- forded to posterity save by the publication of this little volume? Every warm and humane feeling of our natures demands it. Posterity must be accommodated. Critics of the Swin- burnian school may cavil, but *tis no matter. The book is not for them, but for the man who can do eighteen holes _ in 130, or thereabouts, while not neglecting the possibilities of impres- sionist colouring iji the EngUsh language. CONTENTS Dedication " To Golfers All " " Fore ! and away " The Golfer's Awakening A Hope Spring on the Links "Kismet" . Song, Glorious Golf " Resuscitation " . Envy .... " A Novice " To the Lassies ! Twosomes and Lonesomes A Golf Illusion The Golf BaU Golf Sympathy A Twosome . The Judge at Golf Golf Talk Golf .... The Cause . Spring .... " Dreams of a Duffer " Retrospection Soliloquy of a Lost Golf Ball To the NibUck The Perfect Golfer " An Episode " V vii I 3 4 6 9 II 13 15 17 i8 19 22 23 25 27 28 30 33 35 36 39 40 43 44 46 CONTENTS A Little Golf Joke ** Lost Ball " " The Golfiac " . " You Never Can Tell " " Links and Drinks " . " A Duffer " The Game of Golf Too Bad " The Nineteenth Hole '' " Theories " . Au Revoir 49 51 55 56 58 61 63 66 67 68 72 DEDICATION ••TO GOLFERS ALL" When Anglo-Saxon golfers meet on top of God*s creation, It matters not what flag we fly, or what may be our nation; One mutual " link " unites us all, and grips above all others — A bond most true, that binds anew, and brands each golfer — brothers ! As through the world, unconsciously, our wande- ring steps are wended. We meet good golfers everywhere, good spirits, finely blended. One race in fact, in speech, in creed, in spite of outside scoffers. And what is more both " far and sure," we stand as brother golfers! So, gentlemen, a toast I pledge, to our grand recreation. To golfers all, who play the game, no matter what his station; May we *' hole out," when we " lay dead," and win what Heaven offers. United still, come will or nil, a '' well up," band of golfers! "FORE! AND AWAY" Fore ! and away — let that be our song, Spring has arrived, and the feeUng is strong; Bring out your clubs, let's be tramping along, For the call of the links is alluring. Fore! and away, — the prospects are fair; We all start in hope, which may end in despair; But playing the game, what the deuce do we care, The pleasures of golf are enduring. Fore ! and away — we can't all excel. Duffers are many, and science will tell; But we get as much fun as those who play well, The joy of the game's in the trying. Fore ! and away — tho' fortune may frown, Victory's laurel may not be our crown. Sometimes we're up — tho' more often we're down, But hope in our heart is undying. Fore ! and away — let's after the ball, Mark it, my lads, near the place it may fall. Or hang the blamed thing! you'll ne'er find it at all. The gay little sphere is the limit. Fore ! and away — ! sweet the refrain. Clearing your mind of all sorrow and pain. Except what you find, while you're playing the game ; ! Golf is a treat — so begin it ! Vll ii**'-^ .\ v^^^Pi^iP " JV'A i* ' THE GOLFER'S AWAKENING The season of winter and waiting is over, The note of the robin is heard on the air, And fresh from his resting the Golfer awakens To welcome glad springtime, so winsome and fair. He casts from his presence his skates and his snowshoes. Those invites to Dances and Bridge — such a bore ! Then takes from a corner his faithful old Brassy, And whirling it fondly, he fiercely yells **Fore!" He thinks with regret of the time that's beenwasted. At social engage- ments and such fal-de-rals, ^^ \ ^ « '>X'" >. \\ When he might have been out on the golf links a-putting, Or knocking the life out of dollar golf balls. He sighs for the days and the long summer eve- nings When he roams o'er the Links, Ah! he wants nothing more, But a chance to knock spots off his last season's record, And shout in his triumph that battle cry " Fore ! " So here's to the Golfer, his bag and his Brassy, His Driver, his Lofter, his Putter, his Cleek, Soon may he capture, his heart's fond ambi- tion, The crown that evades, yet compels him to seek. w^ -^v ftO^-. And so when he leaves us for realms undis- covered, We pray he may land on that beautiful shore, Where the '' greens " are all perfect, and golf balls are gratis. And obstacles melt, when he simply says " Fore ! " A HOPE When in life's Autumnal evening. We sit round the fire and we dream About the old days on the Links, boys, And the glorious times that have been, *Tis then that I hope some old comrade, Will join with me once in a while. And yarn over old recollections, = . ^. With a sigh for the past — and a ^ ^ smile. SPRING ON THE LINKS " Hope springs eternal in the Golfer's breast " Well, so long Mister Winter, youVe done your level best To hog the course for months, and keep us waiting. Now you're off to other spheres — we're not a-shedding tears Because our fair domain, you are forsaking. We stood your snubs unkind, and your irritating wind, And let you play right through us, uncomplaining, But now you're really off — we should like a little golf — Impossible with you, old pal, remaining. Thrice welcome then, sweet springtime, we adore your joyous " Fore ! " 4 '^iiH^.y^, Compared with surly winter's — it's delicious, Like your sex, you may be free, to indulge in coquetry And be at times a trifle too capricious. Yet we revel in your smiles, and your fascinating wiles. Rejoicing in the song you're gaily singing. For the time, we know, has come, to anticipate some fun With gifts galore, your ladyship is bringing. Ah! the golfer's load is lifted, with your coming, gentle spring Forgetful of the past, his heart is waking To the future, and his aim, is to play the ancient game And do the course, in score, that's record breaking. ! it's great to be alive — so *' tee up," dear boys, and drive To start once more the gay golf ball a-flying; 5 ■Aif-ty^r For well we understand — the chance for all is grand, The glory of the game is in the trying! •• KISMET " 'Tis strange to think the day must come, When I at home remain, To watch the younger men start out To play the good old game. To hear their voices full of life, The links come floating o'er. And smile, with just a tinge of pain. To hear their lusty Fore. The day that I, in easy chair Must be content and wait. To hear the doings of the day. That other lips relate. To note the tales of " record score," f*f^ 5^\1— ' The " ifs " and *' might have been," Those " wonderful recoveries That almost fetch'd the green ! " *Tis then my wandering glance will turn To those old clubs of mine To mark the scars of battle lust The rust of fleeting time. For by my side, they still will stand, In well deserved rest — Old comrades of a thousand fights. That stood the strongest test. And proudly on its pedestal A cup will reign alone, A tarnish'd trophy of the past, But yet my very own. For it will ever bring to mind That I, in keen fought game. Won out our club's first handicap (^^VS'^Xi^ And tasted golf's sweet fame. 7 ^^ And friends with whom I used to play, Will come in dreams to me, And cheer the gloom of fading light With their fond memory. The Judge, our Captain, and the boys Who in the days long past Did form a place within my heart That shall forever last. jC><«s>A^^ But why anticipate the end ? Far wiser would it be, To play the game while life remains. And strength is left to me. But when at length the time ar- rives That I, thro' strength's decay Must lose my place — I'll step aside And then, let come what may! S /• v-v>>*-'-Z^tk- SONG GLORIOUS GOLF Come leave your counter and your desk All you who slave for treasure, For out upon the merry links Rich joys await your pleasure. 'Tis there you'll breathe the pure fresh air With pine and clover scented, And best of all, there's golf, my boys, The grandest game invented. CHORUS Two rounds upon the merry links Will chase all troubles off, boys. Far better than all drugs and drinks Is the glorious game of golf, boys. Is the glorious game of golf. Beneath a fav'ring sky, we tread The soft green turf, so lightly; With hearts aglow with exercise 9 .^'<^'. And eyes that sparkle brightly We tramp the fields and climb the hills, And hear the gay balls singing As onward into space they fly, Like birds swift homeward winging. Chorus. The stranger looks with scornful eye Upon the lusty golfer, And sees no skill, no charm, or fun That this great sport can offer. But once he starts to play the game He'll quickly cease to scoff, boys. And soon be shouting with the rest. There's nothing quite Uke golf, boys! Chorus. So here's good luck to golfers all, 10 No matter what their station, British, French, American, Or any other nation. To him I drink, who fights until The keen fought game is off, boys. Then turns to grasp your hand and joins In praise of good old golf, boys! Chorus. •* RESUSCITATION " Podgers treads the verdant links With blithesome step and gay, Humming as he tramps : along Some rhythmic roundelay. His heart pulsates with proud de- light. He scents the ' breath of fame, 1 1 For sure as fate, he's struck a gait, And Podg is on his game. Podgers views with pitying eye His poor opponent, who Sees nought of glamour in the game Or beauty in the view. Who silently, in morbid mood Doth foozle, fuss, and fume, And seems to miss, ecstatic bliss, In clouds of mental gloom. Podgers plays with airy grace And drives both straight and free. His brassies often fetch the green. He putts unerringly. In fact he's playing such a game That youthful dreams revive, 12 fa te .11 .^^ «tO-s And to his joy, the dear old boy Gets round in " ninety-five '* ! Podgers wins out easily — " Four up and three to play ! " Sorrows of the painful past Are buried deep to-day. He struts the club triumphantly And treats the crowd, you bet! And cries " beware! you boys, for there Is Ufe in the old dog yet ! " ENVY Fve just had a letter from Jim, He's having one glorious time In a place where the skies never dim And the cUmate is simply sublime. And Jim plays at golf ev'ry day With never a trouble or care, Or passes the time with a vision divine, Whose Pa is a great millionaire. 13 Jove ! how I envy the lad Now basking 'neath languorous skies With joys that can only be had If your " wad's " a respectable size, But Jim has the goods and he's game To touch all the spots that are high, His letters just teem, with pleasures supreme And rivers of " fizz," " extra dry." But I, darn the luck ! must remain Just plugging away for dear life J' In a climate of sorrow, of snow, wind and (^\aiJ^ In the city of hustle and strife. ^^ /^r My liver is torpid, oh, say, Fm sick of the whole bally game, ^ < ~" ^\ I long for the calm of the fig \ tree and palm "^^ ^^^ And the chant of the 'T^ ^.;^.^,^JU^-4^u.^5™ ' ocean's refrain. y ;> /. 14 Yet Jim bids me pack up my things And hike for this reahn of deUght, Where fun with the morning begins And ends with the small hours of night. He knows, hang it all! that I can't, So it's simply a criminal sin To stir up a man, as only Jim can, And finish by rubbing it in! •A NOVICE'* ** So this is your game of golf ! " He cries with words profane. ** No wonder the wise guys scoff At your Royal and Ancient game I've lost three balls in the woods And two on the open course, I've broken a club — its tough ! After working all day hke a horse. " And this is the game, begad ! You said, was unlimited fun. It's put me all to the bad You darned old son of a gun. 15 .'**2U«<^> 1^ -6>;r -^ I've tried every way that I know To eye that ball — but gee ! What I need is a ball to keep A fatherly eye on me. " It*s all very well for you To coach me how to stand, To always follow through — Not press to beat the band. My hands are blistered, and I Am jolly near down and out, And 0! my throat's so dry I could drink from a water spout. " All right, ril try once more To swat that blamed little ball And then if I fail to score, I'm off, for good and all. My word ! but I soaked her then — A bird! did you see her go? Two hundred yards and ten Or more, well, — I want to know! i6 U .. .' y^^^s f4?f " Say, did you see me * putt * ? What do yon think of that? Luck ! why, you silly old ' mutt,' You're talking through your hat! I know you're a golfer, but then. Don't you be getting too gay Or you'll be an * also ran ' When you strike Uttle Willie some day." So back to the club we go, He talks all the time of the game. Of just what he did, and he's keen To be out on the Unks again. He laps up a good many drinks And shouts, as we part at the door, " I'll use you to sweep up the links To-morrow, old fellow, at Four." TO THE LASSIES! Here's to the lassies, God bless 'em! We all want to love and caress 'em, 17 But money*s so tight, It's impossible quite, To feed the dear creatures, and dress 'em. TWOSOMES AND LONESOMES They started out together very well, Whatever seemed to happen none can tell, But I saw him use his " putter " For a " brassy," that was utter Nonsense, any amateur knows well. He seemed to be confused — I don't know What made him play with such a lack of " go," For he only met her lately. And she acted so sedately. Funny, for we always thought him slow. I missed them for a little, then O dear! I noticed they were resting, and I fear, 18 /.-v^>*-'^:/tk> M ^i^^^^fe.^# 'm \ N\' U That the laddie, growing bolder, Drew her head close to his shoulder, Kissed the lips so rapturously near. I turned away quite sadly, for I had A similar adventure when a lad. And now I'm slowly learning From that vision oft returning. Lonesome games in Ufe and golf are bad. A GOLF E.LUSION She looked a perfect picture as she stood at "Number One." A trifle too elaborate, and yet — One couldn't help admire her fashion-plate attire. And all the boys were '* rubber- ing," you bet! Her dress was clinging white, and surely a delight. And hose designed to put one " off " his game; 19 ^^w^-^^/fM/**^ '•»''V,» 2- • We envied Brown, and cuss'd him, for a most disgusting hog, And waited round the clubhouse in despair, Reflecting on her smile, complexion, and her style, And the golden - tinted beauty of her hair. Then, the skies long overcast, broke forth with rain at last. And down in torrents pour'd relentlessly ; And when the maid came back, the truth to tell, alack ! She was a most bedraggled sight to see. tr^ . 21 w %'V1^ We certainly felt sorry, for we noted with amaze The glossy tint had left her straightened hair, And that complexion fine, well, it didn't show a sign Of peaches, for it wasn't " on the square,'* She didn't look the same, since the falling of the rain, Which swept away another pleasant dream; Proving out and out, that there's jolly little doubt Things are very seldom what they seem. THE GOLF BALL THE IDEAL What joy to watch that gay little ball Wending its wingless flight Far into space, with a sv/erving grace, And a bird-like pinion'd might. Then will it rest, upon the crest, 22 Of a soft smooth grassy lie; Till your brassy true, will follow it thro' To the green, and its " nest " near by. THE REAL! I haven't much use for that blamed little ball, Sneaking away in disgrace ; Topp'd from the tee — you will plainly see It make for some treacherous place, There like a snide, it will secretly hide, Tho' you search, in the same old way — Till a caddie new, will find it for you, At a price, on some future day. GOLF SYMPATHY Invidious comparisons are odious, I know. But I can beat old Bertie, just the same ; He's really quite a duffer, and I do not want to blow, I'm rather hard to beat when on my game. 23 ? < Of course I'm not a Travers, a Travis, or a Beyers, But I toddle round in *' ninety," more or less. Yet Bert persists in saying — when he*s feeling well and playing, He can make me " fiy the signal of dis- tress." 6\ A blatant bit of boasting, that, for often when we play, I beat old Bert, quite frequently you know, 'Tis then that you should hear him, com- plaining all the way, //^ "^^vK Of everything existing here below, /^"^J^^ He blames his wretched Uver, indigestion ^^/\ and his wife, Txm. For dragging him " to call " the night // '7 V before ; / ^^^S^^^ ^^^ ^' ^^^ awful cussing — his / :^'^i?i^^^^^ temper, and his fussing, ^~ --^^ Makes Bert a most un- '.,..-^-'^^_%^^:^!r*^^'-'-<^^^-^^^'' mitigated bore. Last Saturday I play'd him, for a dinner at the club, He happened to be playing quite a game. My luck was simply rotten, — foozle, top and dub — And mentioning it, would hardly warrant blame. But Bert was very chesty, and once or twice remarked. He thought it better form, '' 'twixt you and me," To just abstain from kicking — when I got an honest licking. And that's what I call lack of sympathy ! A TWOSOME When first we started out I didn't like her style, She seemed incUned to " rattle," with her disconcerting smile, For I was keen on golfing, not frivolling away The hours that have been given us the noble game to play. 25 /t-vO^-X^' ^^ Before we got half round her words were rather rare ; I found her st\ie improving, and her '* brassies" ver}' fair, She w^asn't strong in driving, her swing a Uttle *' set,'* But when she landed near the green she played the game, you bet ! By Jove, this dainty maiden, who looked so sweet and trim, Just held me down completely — you could hear the " caddies " grin. One couldn't help admiring, her pluck was great to see. She didn't win the game of golf, but simply finished me. Now we play together nearly all the time, I like to hear her pretty talk, her jx^ smile is just divine. By Jove, there's no denying, it's great fun for a man, 26 ^^irl To play a tender " twosome " with a sweet American ! THE JUDGE AT GOLF Have you ever seen the Judge address the ball ? He fixes it with stern judicial gaze, A look that would the guilty soon appall, And from the court win well deserved praise. He eyes that Httle culprit on the '' dot," And lifts the arm of justice, stern and true, Saying, as he gives an awful swat — " Two hundred yards or more, my man, for you! " But it's awful when the Judge is " off " his game, The skies are duU'd as by some dark-set cloud. Each misspent *' Putt," and " Brassy " topp'd or tame. Doth cause a silence that is almost loud. And all the 'dressing on this vital case, 27 <^-^*^^ wQu, >z '^J Alas! expended in an effort vain, Leaves nought but his convincing legal grace, To fasten on some varied cause the blame. »> Should you ever see the Judge when really " on, A joy ineffable is then for you in store, To watch him '* follow thro' "unerring, strong, And '* Brassy " like a Vardon — shouting fore! Then when the game is over, and you hear The points discussed, with dignity benign, 'Tis great indeed to note his verdict clear, — *' I did it in a perfect * eighty-nine' ! '* GOLF TALK Brown heard four men conversing Not many weeks ago, Men of high position, all Professional, and so He thought it fit and proper To Usten, and may be Exalted words of wisdom Might fall eventually. 28 /^y>^^Z^t^ ^* ,^^m He heard one say, distinctly, " I took my ' brassy ' then, And handed out a * screamer * Two hundred yards and ten; It landed in the ' bunker,* The one behind the ' gore ' ; It put me off my game, but I Came home in ' eighty-four.' " *Twas Greek to Brown, but patient, He heard a doctor sigh : " I don't know what's the reason. But fear I've lost my eye ; It's really most annoying, I cannot hit a thing. To one who's played as long as I, It's simply damaging." Poor Brown got quite excited ^ /a When next the bishop spoke, / ^/^TT And on that face benevolent ^.; '/I ^La, He fondly placed his hope, ^^d^^^^^^^^i^^^c^--- '-'•s^- ^^ •>-. Wvn'^Vv^ '^''^ ^y^ And when he topped or foozled, You should have heard him cuss. I know I'm not a champion — I wish I was alack ! But still for all, I swept the green, Of what was left of Mac. Should you meet Macpherson, You'll surely find some fun, To start the ball a rolling, On Golf, and how it's done. And when you've got him going Just " butt in " one to see If Sandy still remembers The day that he played me. THE CAUSE He came a crash, did Johnson, A bad financial mess, That broke his happy home up, And caused him sad distress. It was not unexpected. He knew it had to come, 33 i^- fi-^ ings, in <--^^^- The dollar-ine golf ball. 34 SPRING What ! the sun is shining, Jack Frost has hit the pike; The fresh, young grass is growing. And the course looks out of sight. The ice has left the river, Soft breezes gently swell; And all good golfers waken To the sign they know so well. Bring out your clubs, and polish The rust and dust away; Bring out your boots and sweater, And the balls you love to play ; For out upon the links, boys. The greens are Waiting fair. To give you sport and pleasure, That you alone can share. Cast off the sloth of winter — Your liver needs it bad ; Your circulation's sluggish. And your nerves are to the sad. 35 '►^^>*^i^tk.v li But once you start a-playing, And tramp the links, you bet The strains and pains of winter, You'll mighty soon forget. Cheer ! the balls are flying ! The good old game's begun! The past is soon forgotten In the hopes of joys to come. So play the game; and, playing, We'll strive as ne'er before, To knock spots off the record, And smash last season's score. "DREAMS OF A DUFFER" The night is far spent, and I'm think- ing Of the fortune that's coming to me, Left by a distant relation. Who lived in strange lands o'er a- the sea. ^^^ And I'm told that the money's invested 36 r .-•y ^ IV ^>^ ^^^ V ff^ In a most satisfactory way ; So there's nothing to do but get busy, And have a good time while I may. No more in the morning they'll wake me By banging Uke mad on the door; Proclaiming, in language offensive, " It's time that I cut out that snore." No more to the office I'll hustle; No more will I slave as of yore, And grind at that bally old ledger, Or write till my fingers are sore. But ho ! for a life of enjoyment. An automobile, all for mine ; A green-coated " beaut," and^//^ a flyer, ^^A\^ '^ The sort that can go to /c^ beat time. 'Tis then to the golf links I'U hasten, lU the day if I <,^^>^^^^^^_ will; ^^^ 37 With lots of new balls always handy, And caddies of training and skill. By Jove! how I revel delighted, In fancies of pleasures to be ; When I play o'er the famous old courses. That often I've longed so to see, 'Tis then, with the best of good coaches, I'll learn all I can of the game. And come back a *' golfer " — a cracker! With a corner on trophies and fame. At night, with a few boon companions. At poker or bridge we will play ; Or sit in the cosy old smoke-room, Discussing events of the day. And yarn, with a joy never failing. Of the splendid old game, ever new — By Jove! but it's hard to beheve it, And almost too good to be true! 38 / .-A,l>^*Z/t/s>. Then some day, perhaps, I may marry A dear little maid, up to date; Who'll share in my joys and my sorrows — In fact, be a jolly good mate. Together we'll play life's sweet " twosome," And children — Great Scot ! What a shock ! Tm hanged if I haven't been dreaming — By thunder, it's past eight o'clock! RETROSPECTION When I started out last spring, My golf was voted quite the thing, My drives were faultless in their flight, Style and swing were just all right, Distance simply out of sight — C^ When I started out last / i^ spring. Certainly I played the game. Adding laurels to my fame, 39 '•. -.^^^ V' At a time when it meant such a lot, To stay on the course Uke a well-bred golf ball Of that eminent Une of " Black dot." I lost him the match, that young master of mine, And I know how he wanted to win; But lor' ! you can bet that I've Uved to regret That I ever went back upon him. Since then I have suffered the torments of Hell At the hands of that Duffer, for he Could swear like a trooper when things went awry, And his wrath wreaked its vengeance on me. All shattered and battered and cruelly abused, I fled to this hole in the ground ; For golf may be fine, but the " simple " for mine ! So I pray nevermore to be found. vl1 TO THE NIBLICK What a trusty old friend is a Niblick, What an excellent comrade is he, Tho' we seldom refer to his friendship Or speak of his service so free. We don't often tell of the times, sir. He saved us defeat and despair; By helping us out of a Bunker And troubles, too often our share. We don't take him out in the open. And flourish him swift thro' the air; Or talk of his wonderful service, Or boast of his qualities rare. But right in the background we keep him, Forgotten, neglected and sad; But quickly he comes to the front, sir, When our brassy lands us to the bad. 43 tr--^-^ Yet still when the season is over, And golf for the present is done; We say au revoir to our clubs, sir, And grant them the rest that they've won. We glance at our well balanced driver, Our brassy so brilliant and true; But Gad ! when we come to old Niblick, Well! we take off our hat, boy — to you. THE PERFECT GOLFER ** 'Tis not the cowl that makes the monk," Or yet his clubs, the golfer; The clothes he wears, the bag he bears, /f[ ^.\ Or yarns he has to offer. (.c^^^dkA Nor is it he who seeks to pose, ^<^h^^ And boast of play surprising; I \ Or loves to dwell on scores that — well, f\ ^ Quite often need revising. »Tis not the crank that cannot play 44 A ball that's not the fashion; Who, when he dubs, will blame his clubs, Or fly into a passion. Nor he who at the slightest chance, A " fore " will bellow madly; Yet on the green will stand and dream. And keep you waiting sadly. Nor yet the man who carelessly On others* rights encroaches; *Tis not a joke for slower folk To feel his wild approaches. Or he, without a fair excuse, Will take up your position ; And thro* you play, in heedless way. And scorns to ask permission. But mark the man who plays the game For all the sport that's in it; Who, striving still, with ear- nest will, To play up to his limit. 45 /'^<>^*;'^^ Who holds his temper well in check, Of others ne'er a scoffer; Whose courtesy — so fair to see — Proclaims the perfect golfer. •• AN EPISODE " I landed in the bunker, the one at number " eight," Just as I was going some, and striking quite a gait; At first I tried, with patience, in vain to get it out, But all my skill was wasted, it stuck beyond a doubt. I madly dashed my cap aside, and hit out Uke a fool, But still that blessed ball came back, a-bucking like a mule; 'Twas then my patience ended; I couldn't dam the tide. But think I covered everything there was to d beside. Just then I saw our Parson, the Rev. James McFlay, 46 /l-^^^t^fe ^l'-^' l.»^' Who*d lately been appointed, and arrived the day; He lookM at me in sorrow, the silence was intense — And, personally speaking, I felt like " thirty cents/' At last he said : " My brother, I do not know your name, But your language seems more potent than your knowledge of the game. Tm really quite astonished — it seems to me absurd. You do not use your * niblick,' and get out, like a bird." I noted with amazement, a twinkle in his eye. So, handing him my niblick, said : '* Perhaps sir, you will try." X/' He grasped my club with pleasure, it almost seemed a dream — He lofted out a beauty, to the cor- ner of the green. Instinctively, I passed him my ** putter," just to see 47 --■-€m3U ^<=^'^%A/V^. If he could follow up the stunt, and finish out in "three"; Instead of which he " putted," timed accurate and true, HoUng out a wily " one," in just a perfect " two." I paused, in admiration, and pinched myself to see If I was only dreaming, or in a trance could be; But there he stood, and softly said: "Brother, you were wrong ; Altho' I know, none better, your difficulties strong. But, still, I would advise you, when you land in such a trap. To use your faithful ' niblick,' and stand a little back; 1^ Then slowly take a half swing, with your eye well on the ^y ^ ^all — >^^ '^:;^ Forgive my interference ; good '^ ' " day, sir " — that was all ! 48 ^ ^^ 'm -.'W A LITTLE GOLF JOKE And they told him the man he was playing Was an eminent parson, and so He must not give way to bad language, Or let his hot passions overflow. No matter what fortune provided — How he topp'd, sliced, or found the long grass; There'd be no excuse for profanity's use — He must just let the incident pass. So he started right in with the cleric. Who certainly looked quite the part ; And played the first nine very fairly. With joy to his crusty old (^k; heart. / p9 j^ Then luck, without warning, de- / <' ^ serted, /■.i_ And things went from bad to much worse ; 49 /<- - -1^ ^u^^- "^ '^\^^:V \h<^M^^^ ^ jr.^' -^^Qn- Still bravely he fought, as he knew that he ought, To keep from his favourite curse. His opponent, he noted quite clearly. Was having some trials of his own; In fact, both were playing like sailors Half seas over, and hard tempest-blown. At last our old friend at the " punch-bowl," Exploded with vehement force. And just let her rip, straight from the Up, That echoed half over the course. Then he stopped, out of breath, while the "par- son," Who paused in amaze- ment complete. Then, roaring with jubilant laughter. Exclaimed : '* Ye gods, that is sweet ! 50 They told me that you were a rector, Of a living down Ottawa way; 0, wait till I see the guy that strung me There'll be just the devil to pay ! " " LOST BALL " He sat beside the silv'ry stream Beneath a shady tree, Alone in sweetest solitude And reading peacefully. And while he sat, his wan- dering glance Unwittingly did fall Upon an unexpected sight, A little dotted ball. He pickM it up with interest And scann'd it o'er and o'er, 51 4t ^ " A curious thing," he muttered low, " To find out here, I'm sure." So in his pocket carelessly He dropped it out of sight, And turning to his treasured book He soon forgot it — quite. The silence of that soft retreat Far from the madd'ning crowd Was all at once disturbed by A voice both stern and loud: *' By Gad," it said, in tones of wrath, " It came this way all right. And I will find the blas- ted thing. If I stay here all night." He hunted round, and as he glared. The man beneath the tree 52 rr-J Ou Began to think it was for gems Or gold, he searched, may be — So nervously he cough'd, ahem! To let the other know That he was there against his will And would be glad to go. The searcher turned with startled air Surprised a man to see, Who rose before him like a ghost Saluting nervously. " Beg pardon," said the timid one, " I notice, sir, with pain. You seem to be in trouble And search, alas, in vain! " " The blankest luck I ever had!" The searcher snorted, mad, " I play'd the first eight per- fectly And now I'm lost, by gad ! 53 My drive I missed, and then I sliced And right round here I fell, ! blank the blank blank blanket thing, My good score's gone to H — 11 ! " The timid gent was quite appall'd And rackM his worried brain To guess what prize this fearful man Expected there to gain, For, on his knees, he puff' d and cuss'd, Inspecting angrily, Every bush and blade of grass Around that fatal tree. At last the timid gent inquired In gentle tones withal, If he, the anxious one, perchance Had lost a little ball? And as he spoke he handed out V -v^N^^v The ball — then sure as '^^< .Ji^^^^^^t- fate — 54 He got a true description of A brain-storm — up-to-date. "THE GOLFIAC*' I met old Duffum on the links, His face all wreathed in smiles; Which really seems remarkable, Considering his trials. His wife eloped the other day, And gaily started off; Saying she would Uke to be Preferred to silly golf. And then old Duffum's lost a pile In stocks that cost him dear; He must have dropped a '' hundred thou." But didn't drop a tear. He seems so philosophical. That nothing causes pain. Except when he gets " bunk- ered," or Old Duff gets off his ^ game. e/=^'nwv,^. 55 A>Wz^ti^ It's only just the other day His confidential man Skipped off, with quite a tidy sum, To spend with Uncle Sam; But, strange to say, old Duffum beamed That night delightedly, Because he'd made the punch " bowl " in A most surprising '' three " ! And now the bank in which he stored The balance of his cash Has tried a stunt in high finance. And come an awful crash. The shocking news disturbs him not — He scorns the hand of fate; For Duffum's just won out his match, And made a *' ninety-eight " ! YOU NEVER CAN TELL " I watchM them when they started off To try and play a round of golf; 56 J She was a beginner, so I wondered how the game would go — You never can tell ! In driving off from '' number two '* I thought things look'd a trifle blue; For she reallv had no swing. And couldn't hit a blessed thing — But, you never can tell ! At " number four " they'd lost their place, A cloud bedimm'd his manly face ; No doubt he found it rather tame To be poHte ; but, just the same — You never can tell! I saw them next beneath a^^/ tree, ^ The maid was laughing mer- rily; Holding him, I should declare, A rather willing captive there - bttt - <^:=^*^^_ You never can tell ! - ^ 57 At any rate, it's safe to say, They'd found a game that she could play ; While he seemed going rather strong, Altho', of course, I may be wrong — You never can tell ! When next I had to pass that way, 'Twas getting late ; and I should say. To judge from that devoted kiss. They're booked for one long dream of bliss But, you never can tell! "LINKS AND DRINKS'* Captain Green and his chosen team One day went off to play A rural club, looking for " troub " A good many miles away. They boarded the train with a haughty air, For such was their great re- nown It was infra dig. for them so big — To play such a queer little town. 5^ ' ►A.^>*-^Z. tkv Captain Green and his lusty team Were met by the local bunch With lots of fuss, the omnibus Bore them away to lunch; They soon sat down to a glorious spread And things of the finest brand, Which was quite enough to show the stuff That Uved in that rustic land. Captain Green and his hungry team Were right on the job, you bet ; ApproachM the drinks, in a way me thinks One won't very well for- get; And when they'd finished and started out To drive from the first old '' tee," Their curious stance, did not enhance Their chances of victory. 59 , ^ y^.'^^v 1^\ Captain Green and his festive team Did not show up real strong ; They didn't play in their usual way, And, Lor', how they carried on. The Cap himself did all that he could Their faiUng hearts to cheer, But most of the gang stood round and sang " We're here, because We're here! " Captain Green and his merry team, The end of the first nine holes. With throats that burn, did all adjourn To freshen their thirsty souls. They all sat round 'neath the cooling shade And toasted that country town And didn't give a hang, tho' each of the gang Were all very badly down, 60 Captain Green and his thirsty team At last prepared to go, They gave up the game and drove to the train In a glorious state, what ho ! The golfers bold of that rural town Were not very strong on the links, But dangerous quite, when it came to a fight With any old kind of drinks. A DUFFER Young Thompkins ought the game to play, He tried his best in every way ; Bought a bag which cost him " ten," Has club of every make and ken ; 6i - ^> - A <■' ,^-^r' v^^'v^. / i Read Braid on " Golf," and Vardon, too — Tried all the balls he ever knew; But still, alas ! of all our club, He typifies the perfect dub. Our worthy Pro. has tried in vain To teach him how to play the game ; Helped him all that he could do. To eye the ball and follow thro* ; His clothes are always latest style — To watch him pose is quite worth while ; He really should have been a star, .^ . But he*s a dub — and there you are ! Why Thompkins fails we cannot see — He practises most pa- tiently ; Went to Pinehurst for a week, Some new remedy to seek ; 62 ^tOm Watch'd Tillinghast and others play — Even that was lost they say, He looks the part, and that's the rub — He still remains a perfect dub. THE GAME OF GOLF We both started out for the Babbicombe links, I, and my old pal, Jim; To play for the dinners — likewise the drinks. With a ball a hole thrown in. The wind was perfect, the Hght was good. And we felt like making a score ; So we stepped to the '' tee," with a hope, you see Of beating our " eighty- four." The ball that I drove was both steady and long, Jimmie's was only fair; His second, a brassy, not very strong. Put him 'way up in the air. 63 He got there at last, and holed in ** five," Tho' the ** bogey " for this is " three," I holed on my third, and James was heard A-cussin' his luck, quite free. 4 The second and the third I won at my ease, Jim, at the fourth, lost his ball; From what I could gather, it went to the woods And never was seen to fall. At the end of the " ninth " I was four holes up. And Jimmie was looking quite sad; I was sorry for him, and it seemed a sin, To feel in my heart so glad. Z/i >:m x\/^ Showing my sympathy, r\ -y^ By bidding him think of the fun weM had /^ I ^ ^^ And the beautiful scenery. V v^iZ^3}\. I chaffed him gently, for I felt so good, Till the next three holes he scored ; / ^^nj^x*;/ 64 z^$ Then I confess my carelessness Made me a trifle bored. It makes quite a change when things go wrong, Jimmie was f eeUng gay ; He got on his game, and was going strong, While I was fading away. His kind words of cheer and his sympathy, When he won the " dip " in *' two " — Annoyed, for I fell in a spot — 0, well! The air was a trifle blue. I hated the smile on old Jim's fat face ; Lor' ! how it made me writhe. When he won the match, to my own disgrace. At the seventeenth hole, in " flve." And as we walked back to the old club house, A chipper old Jim was he ; And he said, with a grin: " When your match you win. How it chaujges the scenery! " -A^lNv^ /^^^>»-^Z.-t'v 65 TOO BAD I gazed with a wonderful rapture, At the deep tinted blue of her eyes, The mystical grace of her features. That filled my soul with surprise. Her head was uncovered to Heaven, Her hair, 'neath the sun, shone like gold, And she stood like a classical goddess^ A glorious sight to behold. She smiled as my friend introduced me, And the light of her smile did possess The god-given wealth of sweet sunshine That beamed with a pure tenderness. She spoke just a few words of wel- come. Revealing the modulent tone Of a voice that was surely created To speak from a queen's gilded throne. watched ecstatic, 66 with a pleasure IV: ^^ i (A^ ^^&^ ^\^^\ f»f As she drove from the first " teeing ground," The rhythmical swing of her " driver " Was perfectly timed, and I found She played with a skill most surprising. The joy of the game lit her face. While her sweet " follow thro* " and abandon Was surely symbolic of grace. I found with a great satisfaction. That her nature was noble and true. Her mind was unconsciously perfect, And loyal to her friends thro' and thro' ! In fact but one fault I discovered. It hurts, as such faults only can, Alas, she's engaged to an- other — And I am to be his best man ! ,^ *♦ THE NINETEENTH HOLE '* Here's to the easiest hole on the links, Inspiring, refreshing and free. Where a man can explain why he <^^^=^^%^^^^,i^.^^ loses his game, 67 Or boast of some proud victory. Where a Duffer forgets all his troubles and cares, And gladdens his sorrowful soul With spirits that cheer and the best of good beer On tap at the *' Nineteenth hole." 'Tis there that the " Cracker," exalted by fame, Condescends to be chummie and gay. And the dubber of dubs — on the links sure of snubs All meet 'neath true fellowship's sway. For everything goes, on this classical green Where the clinking old '* high balls *' roll. And it's safe to acclaim, that each man's on his game When he reaches the " Nineteenth hole." " THEORIES " I've been reading thro' the winter, all the books that I could reach, (Look out, my lads, he's driving!) 68 Imbibing all the knowledge, that the faculty could teach. (Look out, my lads, he's driving!^ I'm going to cultivate a stance that Braid de- clares is right, Pve changed my grip, for Travers says I grasp my club too tight. In fact my form in future will be scientific — quite. (Look out, my lads, he's driving!) I have worked the bally game out, and its points I've got 'em pat. (Look out, my lads, he's driving!) The thing's a cinch, with study, I soon discovered that. (Look out, my lads, he's driving !) I've bought a box of " latest " balls — perfect, so they say, A set complete of famous clubs, the old I've cast away. 69 The only thing for me to do, is just go out and play. (Look out, my lads, he's driving!) I have purchased from my tailors, a suit of sporty style, (Look out, my lads, he's driving!) And shoes of special value, that should hold me for a while. (Look out, my lads, he's driving!) The boys came out to watch me, and cheered as I be- gan To take my stance and wag- gle, upon the latest plan. I swung like Harry Var- don, and topped it bad — d— n! (Look out, my lads, he's driving!) 70 ¥ So after all the theories, I have learned about the game, (Look out, my lads, he's driving!) I wonder whos' the fault is, and where to place the blame. (Look out, my lads, he's driving!) I only know that so far I cannot hit a thing, No matter how I changed my stance, or how I try to swing ; But while I fuss, and muss and cuss, — I hear a small voice sing — Look out, my lads, he's driv- ing! 71 Wl AU REVOIR There's a chill in the air, The trees are stark bare, And the light's growing shorter each day; The winds sweep the course, With insolent force, And the river flows sombre and gray. Well, good-bye to golf. For alas! it's all off With the sport, till another good year; And so with a sigh, We'll put our clubs by. And dwell in past memories dear. O ! we kept it up strong, The whole season long, And we've tasted of joy and despair; The sting of defeat. We've felt, and the sweet Of Victory's Crown for our share. We've played the old game, In mist, and in rain. When the sun, like a furnace did stream, While we puff'd and perspir'd, Yet never we tired. Of the hills, and the glorious scene. A toast then to golf, Let outsiders scoff. At the best of all joy giving games ; It adds to the wealth. Of your life and your health. And its fair fascination remains. It adds to our friends, And fellowship blends. When good golfers meet, and I'm sure, You'll join, boys, with me In sincerity, And drink to old Golf — Au revoir ! 73 .i