On the fifth tee
A raven spotted me

He walked right up
Near my ball
He was arrogantly
Standing tall

I tried to shoo him away
I had golf to play

And on the 7th hole
He was there again
To pester me
Much to my chagrin

Jesus is Lord
I pronounced to him

And with that proclamation
I poured that four foot put
Right in

A foul and hateful bird
Of ancient lore

Was this the bird
That Poe found rapping,
Rapping at his chamber door?

And on the eighth tee
There he was 20 yards
Up ahead
I could see

Perched upon a branch
Perhaps spying on me?

And near the clubhouse
As I rounded the bend
There he sat
Staring into the distance again