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A Golfing Idyll

or The Skipper's Round with the Deil On the Links of St. Andrews

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Co-author: Violet Flint
Published: 1897
Language: English
Wordcount: 7,966 / 31 pg
Flesch-Kincaid Reading Ease: 82.3
LoC Category: PR
Downloads: 534
Added to site: 2010.04.10
mnybks.net#: 27287
Origin: gutenberg.org
Genres: Poetry, Games, Humor
Excerpt

ther brutes wi' fearsome shapes,
Goblins grinning wi' blazing een,
Bogles or ghaists, or a cross between.
But strange, when we the bunker neared,
They'd vanished all and disappeared.
And nocht remained but an infernal smell
Of brimstone reek, true stink o' H--l.
Clootie gaed smilin' in, rejoiced to be
At hame, his bonny bairns to see;
His ball he found, both safe and playable.
'Play quick,' cried I, 'this smell is d--able.'
'Pause, Skipper, 'tis my favourite scent,' says he,
'Bouquet d'Enfer, a perfume sweet to me.
You lack good taste, you drunken sot,
To me this is a charming spot;
But play I must,' and, as he spoke,
He drove forthwith a splendid stroke;
But of little good it proved to be,
For again I took the hole in three.

'Four up,' I said, 'my gallant foe;
If this goes on you'll come to woe.'
'All right,' says he, 'my chance will come,
I'll show you play when we turn home.
To see your game was such a treat,

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