McCaffrey

McCaffrey, a champion golfer in his own mind

All bluster and bullshit, 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 bummer

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 pot

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