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Well I just love me fishing with its peace and bloody quiet,
I don’t have to worry ‘bout the ‘dickheads’ 
and I don’t have to fight.
I can spend a week out on the river doing it with ease,
and if I argue with a fish I only argue with the breeze. 

It is flamin’ golf that causes problems and a slight remorse, 
with me irons and me putters handy
as I wander ‘round the course.
But lately I’m playing solo in a lonely golfing life,
so I slum around the house complaining to my wife. 

She got sick of me one day when was I was grizzlin’ bad,
with me whingein’ ‘round about her feet
‘bout how it makes me mad, 
that I cannot find a partner who wants to join me in a game.
“Why don’t you ring up Ted?” she said; but I denied that claim.

“Ted!” I said “Not flamin’ Ted. Ted’s a mongrel on the green,
as I found out on the course one day
that he gets awful mean,
and is prepared to toss his clubs and shape up for a fight.
Then my missus say’s “Ted’s placid and I find him to be all right.” 

Well I said, “Would you play with a bloke who’s drinking all the time,
and makes rude gestures when you try to putt,
and then he tries to rhyme
stupid jokes that are not funny, and ‘accidentally’ hits your ball away,
Then tell you constantly you’re useless and don’t know how to play?”

Now my wife became indignant and she said, “Of course I wouldn’t.
That behaviour’s unacceptable 
and I’m sure I couldn’t
put up with those childish actions” - So I stopped her and said.
“Well as it so happens playing golf - this also bothers Ted”.

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