The Ravin’ Of A Golf Maniac – Golf Poetry

THE RAVIN' OF A GOLF MANIAC 

AH, distinctly I bear in mind, 
It was within the bleak December, 
That I contemplated, weak and weary, o'er my volumes of golf lore. 
Eagerly I needed the morrow 
That I happiness would possibly borrow 
From a sport that may trigger sorrow, sorrow to opponents sore. 
To opponents, female and male, who would evermore be sore 
On the lowness of my rating. 

Whereas I nodded, practically napping, 
Abruptly there got here a tapping, 
As of somebody gently rapping, rapping, saying to me, "Fore!" 
" 'Tis some customer," I muttered, "on the market, jealous of my rating ; 
Solely this, and nothing extra." 

Deep into that darkness peering, 
Lengthy I stood there, questioning, fearing, 
Fearing {that a} rival had come wandering to my door. 
However the silence was unbroken. 
And the stillness gave no token. 
And the one phrases there spoken had been the whispered phrases, "Your rating!" 
Merely this and nothing extra. 

Open then I flung the shutter, 
When, with many a flirt and flutter. 
In there stepped a saucy Caddie, Caddie who knew properly my rating. 
Not the least obeisance made he. 
Not a minute stopped or stayed he, 
However with cool assurance laid he my golf golf equipment upon the ground. 
Then he kicked them — nothing extra. 

"Prophet,'* cried I, "factor of evil — 
Prophet nonetheless, if boy or satan ! — 
By Chick Evans, Vardon, Travers, and the others  we like — 
Inform this would-be champion actually, when will bogey be  his rating?" 
Quoth the Caddie, "Nevermore!" 

"Be that phrase our signal of parting. 
Boy or buddy," I shirieked, upstarting. 
"Get thee again onto the golf hyperlinks; use your voice to name out 'Fore!' 
Don't attempt to cool my ardor, 
For I will solely observe more durable, 
And I do know that Col. Bogey I will be downing with my rating." 
Quoth the Caddie, "Nevermore!" 

And the spirit of that Caddie, by no means flitting, have to be sitting, 
Nonetheless upon my innocent golf golf equipment that he kicked upon the ground. 
For my pictures have all of the seeming as if performed by one who's dreaming, 
And with driver, cleek and mashie, I am the one to name out "Fore !" 
All the time am I within the background — all the time do I name out "Fore !" 
Good rating make I ? Nevermore ! 

Martha Michel Martin
from Lyrics of the Hyperlinks, 1921 

This poem is sort of clearly, a tackle Edgar Allen Poe’s The Raven, which is one among my favorites. I can quote a lot of The Raven by coronary heart.