17 January 2013

The golfer drove his tee shot,

A long, and fair away,

Then drew out an iron,

A green to hit he hoped he may.

But the ball found a bunker,

Filled with golden sand,

With the golfer on his hunkers,

It said, find me if you can.

He never did did find it,

Was very very sad,

He couldn't use his putter,

There he was so sad.

And so his round was over,

He just faded away,

I hope he does much better,

When if again he play?

PawsyPar Par Away • Opuss № I