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“The Little Sphere”

I often wonder what pleasure folk get
Chasing a ball, getting dripping wet
Trekking from one flag to another
Is it really worth, all that bother?

In the days of old or so they say
Only the gentry were privileged to play
Dapper chaps with plus four trousers
Eight piece caps and curly mousers

Some determined chap with club in hand
Striking this sphere, surveying the land
He’s praying for a thing, they call a par
But yet again he’s hit it too far

He’s tried to teach it, to do as he chooses
This little sphere just simply refuses
A hook shot here, a slice there
This little sphere, it has no cares

This little sphere is a determined soul
It’s not for disappearing down any little hole
It has acres of grass on which to land
But this little sphere it treasures the sand

Frustration takes hold for all to see
Another club wrapped around a tree
Off to the club house to drown his sorrows
Contemplating the game plan of tomorrow

Jimmy Whelan 2010

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