Read Poems by
The Grand Old Game
...to Charlie Hebert, my father-in-law,
with respect and affection
Wind-swept and sun burnt alone on the fairway
he fusses and frets with his lie;
he's been here for ever commanding the course,
ever since you and I were knee high.
Golf is his passion, he lives and he breathes
for the chance to play just one more round,
replacing his divots, observing the rules
and keeping his feet on the ground.
Always nattily dressed he is ready
to tee up and go for the green;
the young guns are anxious to unseat old Chuck,
but he's crafty and wily and mean!
It's the day of the championship and he's all ready
to teach these young men how it's played;
at the turn he's ahead with a three under par,
he'll show them how great shots are made.
On the final hole two men are tied for the lead,
they are edgy as each eyes the pin;
Jim misses his putt, it goes wide to the left,
and Charlie makes par for the win!
In the clubhouse they congratulate the old boy on his score,
he thanks them from the bottom of his heart;
here's to Charlie then, to bunkers, to bad lies and to rain,
to another shot at glory when he climbs aboard the cart.