Poems on Golf Part 5

From exercise keen, from strength active and bold, We traverse the green, and forget to grow old; Blue devils, diseases, dull sorrow and care, Are knock'd down by our b.a.l.l.s as they whiz through the air.

With a fal-the-ral-a, etc.

The strong-sinew'd son of Alcmena would drub, And demolish a monster when armed with a club; But what were the monsters which Hercules slew, To those fiends which each week with our b.a.l.l.s we subdue?

With a fal-the-ral-a, etc.

Health, happiness, harmony, friendship, and fame, Are the fruits and rewards of our favourite game: A sport so distinguished the fair must approve; So to Golf give the day and the evening to love.

With a fal-the-ral-a, etc.

Our first standing toast we to Golfing a.s.sign, No other amus.e.m.e.nt so truly divine; It has charms for the aged, as well as the young, Then as first of field sports let its praises be sung.

With a fal-the-ral-a, etc.

And to crown our devotion, and grateful goodwill, A b.u.mper brimhigh to their healths let us fill; Our charming instructresses--blessings attend them, And cursed be the clown who would dare to offend them!

With a fal-the-ral-a, etc.

The next we shall drink to our friends far and near; To the mem'ry of those who no longer appear, Who have play'd their last round, and pa.s.sed over that bourne From which the best Golfer can never return.

With a fal-the-ral-a, etc.

Then fill up your gla.s.s, and let each social soul Drink to the putter, the b.a.l.l.s, and the hole; And may every true Golfer invariably find His opponent play fair, and his fair one prove kind.

With a fal-the-ral-a, etc.

[Footnote 10: From Mathieson's Poem "The Goff" 1743, with the exception of the 5th verse, which was copied by a member of the Burgess Club from a version of the song found on an old bookstall.]

[Decoration]

THE LINKS O' INNERLEVEN.

SUNG AT THE AUTUMN MEETING OF THE INNERLEVEN GOLFING CLUB, 1841.

TUNE--_Dainty Davie._

Wha wad be free from doctor's bills-- From trash o' powders and o' pills-- Will find a cure for a' his ills On the Links o' Innerleven.

For there whar la.s.sies bleach their claes, And bairnies toddle doun the braes, The merry Golfer daily plays On the Links o' Innerleven.

Sae hie ye to the Golfer's ha', And there, arranged alang the wa', O' presses ye will see a raw, At the Club o' Innerleven.

There from some friendly box ye'll draw A club and second-handed ba',-- A Gourlay pill's the best o' a'

For health at Innerleven.

And though the Golfer's sport be keen, Yet oft upon the putting-green He'll rest to gaze upon the scene That lies round Innerleven-- To trace the steamboat's crumpled way Through Largo's loch-like silvery bay, Or to hear the hushing breakers play On the beach o' Innerleven.

When in the evening of my days, I wish I could a cottage raise Beneath the snugly-sheltering braes O'erhanging Innerleven.

There in the plot before the door I'd raise my vegetable store, Or tug for supper at the oar In the bay near Innerleven.

But daily on thy matchless ground I and my caddie would be found, Describing still another round On thy Links, sweet Innerleven!

Would I care then for fortune's rubs, And a' their Kirk and State hubbubs, While I could stump and swing my clubs On the Links o' Innerleven?

And when the e'ening grey sat doun, I'd cast aside my tacket[11] shoon, And crack o' putter, cleek, and spoon,[12]

Wi' a friend at Innerleven.

Syne o'er a gla.s.s o' Cameron Brig,[13]

A nightcap we would doucely swig, Laughing at Conservative and Whig, By the Links o' Innerleven.

[Footnote 11: Golfers wear tacks in their shoes that they may stand firm when they strike.]

[Footnote 12: Names for different kinds of clubs.]

[Footnote 13: The name of a noted distillery.]

[Decoration]

IN PRAISE OF _GUTTA PERCHA_.

(1856.)

TUNE--_Dainty Davie._

Of a' the changes that of late Have shaken Europe's social state-- Let wondering politicians prate, And 'bout them mak a wark a'-- A subject mair congenial here, And dearer to a Golfer's ear I sing--the change brought round last year By b.a.l.l.s of _Gutta Percha_!

Tho' Gouf be of our games most rare, Yet truth to speak, the tear and wear O' b.a.l.l.s was felt to be severe, And source o' great vexation; When Gourlay's b.a.l.l.s cost half-a-croun, And Allan's no a farthing doun, The f.e.c.k o's wad been harried soon, In this era of taxation.

But times are changed--we dinna care Though we may ne'er drive leather mair, Be't stuffed wi' feather or wi' hair-- For noo we're independent.

At last a substance we hae got, Frae which for scarce mair than a groat, A ba' comes that can row and stot-- A ba' the most transcendent.

Hail, _Gutta Percha_, precious gum!

O'er Scotland's links lang may ye b.u.m; Some purse-proud billies haw and hum, And say ye're douf at fleein'; But let them try ye fairly out, Wi' ony b.a.l.l.s for days about, Your merits they will loudly tout, And own they hae been leein'.

And noo that a' your praise is spent, Ye'll listen to a friend's comment, And kindlier tak on wi' paint, Then ye wad be perfection.

And sure some scientific loon, On Golfing will bestow a boon, And gie ye a cosmetic soon, And brighten your complexion.

[Decoration]

[Decoration]

"FAR AND SURE!"

BY THE LATE SHERIFF LOGAN.

"Far and sure! far and sure!" 'twas the cry of our fathers, 'Twas a cry which their forefathers heard; 'Tis the cry of their sons when the mustering gathers: When we're gone may it still be the word.