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Triumph

Why am I full of joy although     It drizzles on the links?

Why am I buying Veuve Cliquot,     And setting up the drinks?

Why stand I like a prince amid     My pals and envy none?

Ye gods of golf!

Today I did     A Hole in One.

I drove my ball to heaven high,     It over-topped the hill;

I tried to guess how it would lie,     If on the fairway still.

I climbed the rise, so sure I'd hit     It straight towards the green:

I looked and looked,—no trace of it     Was to be seen.

My partner putted to the pin,     Then hoarse I heard him call;

And lo!

So snug the hole within     Gleamed up my ball.

Yea, it was mine.

Oh what a thrill!     What dandy drive I'd

By luck,—well, grant a little skill,     I'd holed in one.

Say that my score is eighty odd,     And though I won't give up,—Say that as round the course I plod,     I never win a cup.

Say that my handicap's nineteen,     And of my game make fun,

But holler: 'On the seventh green     HE

ED IN

NE.'

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Robert W Service

Robert William Service (January 16, 1874 – September 11, 1958) was a British-Canadian poet and writer, often called "the Bard of the Yukon".
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