The Rules of Golf


And did some Scot, in ancient time,
Leading his flock to pastures new,
Upend his crook and strike a stone,
Lacking a better thing to do?
And did that stone land in a hole,
Where rabbits roam on gentle hills?
And was the game of Golf founded here,
Among those dark illicit stills?

Bring me my well-thumbed Rules of Golf,
Sent to me by the R & A,
Bring me my wood, tee up my ball,
Watch while I send it on its way;
And should it roll into a bush
Because the club twists in my hands,
I will obey the Rules of Golf
And play the ball from where it lands.