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Monday, July 6, 2009

Apocalyptic Putting

In addition to a cricket oval and a lawn bowling green Beacon Hill Park also has a small putting green, pictured here beneath a forbidding sky. The putting green surrounds a statue of poet Robert Burns, thus presenting two of Scotland's gifts to the world in one place. There are no references in Burns' poetry to golf but, from the Robert Burns Club of Milwaukee, we do have the following verse.
Address to the Golf Ball
by Seiichiro Otsuka

Great Mischieftain o' the human race,
Weel are ye worthy o' a grace
As lang's you traivel straight.
Ye aim tae reach that distant hill
Nae bother tae play wi' skylark shrill.
The dinky dimples o' your saucy face
Should stay awa safe frae ills o' life,
The whins, waters, traps an' trail
That lie between us and our holy grail.
Ay ye sleekit, tyrannous, drunken beastie, gae straight!
Why the hell do ye gae left and richt?
Now don't squat there deep drowned in bunker
Like a stupid fried egg in stinker.
Poor devil, I'll gie ye one last chance
Tae be my trusty, couthy crony.
If ye wish tae prove yersel worthy o' my gratefu' prayer
For once, gae straight and get in there.
Amen, and grant me a day sae groovy
And a glorious-ever bonnie burdie.

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