When I was young
And in my prime
I could do it
All of the time

But now I’m old
My hair’s turned grey
I sort of from it
Shy away

Back then I’d bang it
Hard and long
But now I’m not
Quite as strong

I use to take
Those deep, long strokes
But now their only
Little pokes

I’d stroke it deep
I’d stroke it hard
The consequences
Disregard

With no control
I’d shoot and spray
Just used my stick
And flailed away

Then drove it home
And drilled that hole
With that last stroke
I’d reach my goal

But now that I  
No longer play
I will those golf clubs
Put away                                          
BOEMS BY JA 94