Poems on Golf Part 7

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GOLFING SONG.

TUNE--_Clean Pease Strae._

When Tom and me were laddies, Oor pastimes were but sma'-- A game at common shinty, Or playin' at the ba'; But lang since then a game we ken, Enticin' great and sma': A king I ween aroun' Leith green Has often gowff'd the ba'.

Wi' glorious Gowff brave Scotia's game, Oor youth comes back ance mair, When, swift and free as birds on wing, Oor b.a.l.l.s fly through the air.

The rays o' fortune's golden star Most earthly ills can cure; Gowff helps to keep the others "_far_,"

Or makes their absence "_sure_."

When ice is keen the curlin' steen Wi' birr gaes straught awa', And cricket on the meadow green, Seems manly, brisk, and braw; But, laddie, tak a club in han', Then tee and drive the ba'; Ye'll find the royal game o' Gowff Is better than them a'.

Oor volunteers wi' guns and spears Keep foreign foes in awe; Noo Britain's youth shield north an' south, Laigh cot and stately ha'; Sae ne'er a foe shall Scotland fear While Scotland's game we play, Though we should leave the _puttin'_ green To buckle for the fray.

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