Its Cronyism to the Fore

Come gather round folks, one and all, Ignore the pall of fake-ball call and gall. Let's play a round of golf with friends, Where favors flow and logic truly ends. All listed experience and resumes we'll scoff at those, We need buddies, cronies whose friendship shows. 'Fore!' is the call, as ball goes out of bounds, 'No worries!' just kick it back, into the grounds. We make up the rules, so surely that's fair? You're hired, my pal, justly pull up a chair!