An Elderly Golfer - Poem by Vernon Gibbons
There once was an elderly golfer,
Who played every day on the greens,
What would he do in heaven?
When his time was finally played?
He tried to seek out the answer,
Deciding to ask those on high,
So he sought out the local vicar,
A man all knowing and kind.
Our Vicar did not know the answer,
But vowed would find out somehow,
Which left our elderly golfer,
Contented to play on for now.
On a day that our elderly golfer,
Having a pot of tea with his mates,
Saw the vicar claiming attention,
To convey to our golfer his fate.
He announced with some trepidation,
That the news was both good then bad,
But our golfer, keen for the answer,
Said “give me the good news my man”.
“There are golf clubs aplenty in heaven,
With wide fairways and very flat greens,
Where the hole are as big as tea plates,
And no bunkers will ever be seen”.
Our golfer delighted to hear this,
Told all of his chums in the bar,
Then turned to the vicar to ask him,
About the bad news, unspoken so far.
He lowered his voice to a whisper,
“The bad news dear sir I must plea,
That the arrangements are all in order,
For you to play there after your tea.
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