The Midshires Lament

 

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 wide
With pitch marks repaired and a buggy to ride
Where the greens are flat and the putts run true
and God stands on the first tee, waiting for you.
Bless you all.