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by Michael Franklin

An aging golfer that I know,
Has a large and lumpy gutt.
And on his rear side, hanging low,
Flops about an enormous butt.
For driving he no problem finds,
Much further forward is the ball.
The driver has a longer length,
And though obese, he’s very tall.

But putting is the harder game.
You must be closer to the ball,
Having clear sight for your aim,
A must - whether you’re short or tall.
One-armed hitting always fails,
The ball runs wild on the green.
Bad behaviour then prevails -
A flood of nasty words obscene.

He pondered ideas that would cure
And make all his putts come out right.
His caddy had an answer sure
A fresh solution that was bright.
“Lean forward - I will prop you up,
Your tummy will be further back.
You’ll see the ball and see the cup -
Aim well - and then give it a crack.”

It worked well - all were amazed,
Old tubby winning and very glad
But grass one day was slippery
And the caddy’s foothold bad
He slid down under his master
Who landed on top of him - flop!
Shouting, but dead when they freed him.
Crushed by that fatty on top.

By all means go and enjoy it
Hit a good below par day
But do not endanger your caddy
That is certainly not the fairway!