The Midshires Lament

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There is a golf course, way up high, 

Where the sun always shines,

Not a cloud in the sky

Where the birdies come often

and the Eagles soar

Where you're never held up

and you never hear "Fore!"
Where the bunkers are raked

and the fairways are wide

with pitch marks repaired

and buggies to ride

Where the greens are flat

and the putts run true

With your god on the first tee
Waiting for you

God bless you All.
 

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