Stow The Sticks – Golf Poetry

STOW THE STICKS 

WHEN Autumn's chill is o'er the land, 
And maple leaves are turning gold ; 
When coal vehicles are on each hand, 
And Summer season's radiant story is informed ; 

When steam first crackles via the pipe. 
And geese fly southward daily ; 
When hunters trek the fen for snipe, 
Then, golfers, stow your sticks away. 

When days are quick and nights are lengthy. 
And sweethearts hover 'around the grate; 
Wlien winds not croon a tune, 
However shriek in tones that irritate; 

When Summer season drinks have disappeared. 
And rye and bourbon maintain full sway ; 
When stalwart timber stand gaunt and seared, 
Then, golfers, stow your sticks away. 

Simply bid the caddie unhappy farewell. 
And in your lockers put away 
The pristine balls, that eke would inform 
The luxurious scores you didn't play; 

Go, golfers, get an ample inventory 
Of rock-and-rye directly; 
Then get your blanket out of hock, 
And stow your {golfing} sticks away. 

C. P. McDonald

from Lyrics of the Hyperlinks, 1921

Though I by no means truly stow the sticks, I respect the emotions on this poem. With freezing temperatures and the accompanying snow right here in Michigan, I attain the purpose the place I’m thrilled if I can get out as soon as every week or so.