I’m lucky to be part of a group of men
Of varied workplace but similar ken
Who gather each spring and travel south
To pay homage to the great game-of-golf.

Our strides are slower, our endurance less,
The trials of living have made their mess.
Still, we all maintain a boyish glee
That comes to the fore at the very first tee!

Old men no longer, we revel in sun
In shots well made; in matches won.
Twelve hours a day without respite
A time, in which, we all delight.

Rule number one is, “don’t get hurt”.
A rule with which we do not flirt
Rule number two is, “do have fun”
A rule, not surprisingly, that’s easily done.

Whilst slings and arrows rage and foment
We know that fate awaits its moment.
When we on golf trips reminisce
Is that a glimpse of heavenly bliss?

Gene Nattie, 2015