#temper - Hello Poetry

McCaffrey, a champion golfer in his own mind All bluster and ******** you know the kind Like the fisherman who’s big one’s always got away He will never change, even at the end of the day One-day last autumn, maybe at the end of the summer Anyway, for McCaffrey it turned out to be a ****** Playing eighteen holes in the championship match Tried to look good playing off scratch Everything went smoothly out on the first nine Holed out the thirty six in thirty nine Out on the tenth all went to *** He hit a large Kangaroo with his driving shot Retrieving the ball was a bit of a disaster The Roo decided to show him who was the master Up with his legs, catches McCaffrey off balance, and unsteady When he should have been aware of the danger, been at the ready A painful kick in the groin had the golfer down for the count As the Kangaroo hoped off over a nearby grass, mount McCaffrey now seething got into deep stress How he finished eighteen holes is anybody’s guess In the nineteenth hole, consuming drink like it was going out of fashion Well oiled at closing time a home he went dashing A cut across the course, striding out nicely, though a dark night Tripped and fell into a bunker and went out like a light The Ladies foursome the next morning, teed off at nine A bright sunny day, everything fine Arrived at the tenth, driver in hand had she Mrs Montgomery walked up to the tee With a good whack from her right hand, the ball was sent aloft Came down with her ego, it fell in the bunker sand A loud scream erupted and all heard around the course A mouthful of expletives greeted the women as McCaffrey crawled out in full force Mrs Montgomery as bad tempered as he Took a swipe with a number nine iron right onto his knee Swearing and cursing McCaffrey sloped away Fortunately for him to fight another day Nursing his ego, his groin and his knee Arrived home hoping to get sympathy, and a nice cup of tee But Mrs McCaffrey was waiting, and whack, McCaffrey had another bruise With her frying pan in hand had no time for any excuse Not impressed at all at her husbands night out Her heading still aching, then there was the gout From all the wine consumed the night before For the rest of the day McCaffrey was ill, and felt rather sore

0

Jan 31

Jan 31, 2026 at 3:36 AM UTC

owen-cullimore

McCaffrey

McCaffrey, a champion golfer in his own mind All bluster and ******** you know the kind Like the fisherman who’s big one’s always got away He will never change, even at the end of the day One-day last autumn, maybe at the end of the summer Anyway, for McCaffrey it turned out to be a ****** Playing eighteen holes in the championship match Tried to look good playing off scratch Everything went smoothly out on the first nine Holed out the thirty six in thirty nine Out on the tenth all went to *** He hit a large Kangaroo with his driving shot Retrieving the ball was a bit of a disaster The Roo decided to show him who was the master Up with his legs, catches McCaffrey off balance, and unsteady When he should have been aware of the danger, been at the ready A painful kick in the groin had the golfer down for the count As the Kangaroo hoped off over a nearby grass, mount McCaffrey now seething got into deep stress How he finished eighteen holes is anybody’s guess In the nineteenth hole, consuming drink like it was going out of fashion Well oiled at closing time a home he went dashing A cut across the course, striding out nicely, though a dark night Tripped and fell into a bunker and went out like a light The Ladies foursome the next morning, teed off at nine A bright sunny day, everything fine Arrived at the tenth, driver in hand had she Mrs Montgomery walked up to the tee With a good whack from her right hand, the ball was sent aloft Came down with her ego, it fell in the bunker sand A loud scream erupted and all heard around the course A mouthful of expletives greeted the women as McCaffrey crawled out in full force Mrs Montgomery as bad tempered as he Took a swipe with a number nine iron right onto his knee Swearing and cursing McCaffrey sloped away Fortunately for him to fight another day Nursing his ego, his groin and his knee Arrived home hoping to get sympathy, and a nice cup of tee But Mrs McCaffrey was waiting, and whack, McCaffrey had another bruise With her frying pan in hand had no time for any excuse Not impressed at all at her husbands night out Her heading still aching, then there was the gout From all the wine consumed the night before For the rest of the day McCaffrey was ill, and felt rather sore