Mr. Punch's Golf Stories, J. A. Hammerton [best pdf ebook reader for android txt] 📗
- Author: J. A. Hammerton
Book online «Mr. Punch's Golf Stories, J. A. Hammerton [best pdf ebook reader for android txt] 📗». Author J. A. Hammerton
The young babes are sleeping in the nest;
The young men are flirting in the shadows,
The young maids are helping them, with zest.
But the young golf widows, O my brothers,
Are weeping bitterly,
They are weeping in the playtime of the others,
While you're swiping from the tee.
Do you ask their grazing widows in their sorrow
Why their tears are falling so?
"Oh—yesterday—to-day again—to-morrow—
To the links you always go!
Your golf 'shop,'" they say, "is very dreary,
You speak of nothing else from week to week;
A really patient wife will grow a-weary
Of talk about a concentrated cleek."
Yes, the young golf widows, O my brothers,
Do you ask them why they weep?
They are longing to be back beside their mothers,
While you're playing in a sweep.
[Pg 96]
And well may the widows weep before you
When your nightly round is done;
They care nothing for a stymie, or the glory
Gained by holing out in one.
"How long," they say, "how long in careless fashion
Will you stand, to drive the Dyke, upon our hearts,
Trample down with nail�d heel our early passion,
Turning homeward only when the light departs?
You can hear our lamentations many a mile hence,
Can you hearken without shame,
When our mourning curseth deeper in the silence
Than a strong man off his game?"
"A BEAUTIFUL DRIVE."
[Pg 95]
"—— HE WOULD HAVE SAID"
A beautiful stroke missed! A favourite club broken! No words to bring relief!
American Friend (in the background, after a long pause). "Wa'al, Brown, I guess that's the most profane silence I've ever listened to!"
[Pg 97]
Subtle.—"Aren't you a little off your game this morning, Mr. Smythe?"
"Oh, I'm not playing this morning, Miss Bertha. Only just amusing myself."
[Pg 98]
SHOULD MARRIED MEN BE ALLOWED TO PLAY GOLF?July 21.—Played Robinson, who would never win a match if it wasn't for his wife. Think that I shall start a links for bachelors only. (Mem.—Suggest to the committee that no married man is allowed to play golf in the mornings or afternoons.)
Hole I. I played perfectly, holing beautiful long putt. Robinson hopeless. One up.
Hole II. R. bunkered. Entirely his own fault. Two up.
Hole III. Holed my approach, allowing for both wind and slope of green; really a grand shot. Caught sight of Mrs. R. as I walked to the next tee. Three up.
Hole IV. Thought that I might have to speak to Mrs. R. at any minute. Missed my drive in consequence. Disgusting! Two up.
Hole V. R. seemed to be looking for his wife instead of attending to what I was saying. My [Pg 100] drive lay on a buttercup, and who the deuce can be expected to play off buttercups? One up.
Hole VI. Stymied R. quite perfectly. He pretended to think that we were not playing stymies. We were. Two up.
Hole VII. Saw Mrs. R. looking aimlessly out to sea. These loafing ladies are enough to put any man off his game. Why can't they do something? One up.
Hole VIII. R. may say what he likes, but he waved to his wife. I was also annoyed by his stockings, which I should think Mrs. R. knitted. The sort of useless thing she would do. All square.
Hole IX. Got well away from Mrs. R., and though my caddy coughed as I was approaching I laid my ball dead. Beautiful shot. One up at the turn.
Hole X. Had the hole in my pocket when R. laid his approach dead. Ridiculous luck. All square.
Hole XI. Just as I was driving I saw Mrs. R. still looking at the sea. I complained, but R. took no notice. At any rate she cost me the hole. One down.
[Pg 102]
Hole XII. Vardon couldn't have played better than I did, and even R. had to say "Good shot!" twice. All square.
Hole XIII. As I was putting I had a feeling in my back that Mrs. R. had arrived at last. Missed my putt and only halved the hole.
Hole XIV. Couldn't see Mrs. R. anywhere. Wondered where on earth she had got to, or whether she was drowned. Of course I lost the hole. One down.
[Pg 104]
Hole XV. A little dispute, as R. claimed that his ball—which was under a wheelbarrow—was on ground under repair. Absolutely foolish, and I told him so. All square.
Hole XVI. Made a perfect drive, approach and putt. Looked everywhere for Mrs. R. and couldn't see her. One up.
Hole XVII. Completely put off by wondering when I should see Mrs. R. Most unfair. Told my caddy I should report him to the committee. All square.
Hole XVIII. Saw Mrs. R. on a hill half a mile away. Got on my nerves. R. said, "Halloa, there's my wife! I thought she wasn't coming out this morning." Lost the hole and the match, and told the secretary that R.'s handicap ought to be reduced.
[Pg 99]
"SHE WAS NOT A GOLFER"
Husband. "What on earth has happened to my driver?"
Wife. "Oh, I couldn't find the hammer, so I used that thing. It wasn't much use, though."
[Pg 101]
OUR VILLAGE
The Golf-Club in full swing.
[Pg 102]
She. "Why, Mr. Smith, you don't mean to say you have taken up golf?"
Smith (age 78). "Yes. I found I was getting a bit too old for lawn tennis!"
[Pg 103]
ERRATIC
Pedestrian (anxious for his safety). "Now, which way are you going to hit the ball?"
Worried Beginner. "Only wish to goodness I knew myself!"
[Pg 105]
SWEET SIMPLICITY
Diffident Man (who does not know to how much of an ing�nue he is talking). "Have you been out long, Miss Grace?"
Miss Grace (consulting her wrist-strap). "Oh, about three-quarters of an hour. You see we were asked to come punctually."
[Pg 106]
LINES ON THE LINKSHard by the biggest hazard on the course,
Beneath the shelter of a clump of gorse,
Secure from shots from off the heel or toe,
I watch the golfers as they come and go.
I see the fat financier, whose "dunch"
Suggests too copious draughts of "fizz" at lunch;
While the lean usher, primed with ginger beer,
Surmounts the yawning bunker and lies clear.
I see a member of the House of Peers
Within an ace of bursting into tears,
When, after six stout niblick shots, his ball
Lies worse than if he had not struck at all.
But some in silent agony endure
Misfortunes no "recovery" can cure,
While others, even men who stand at plus,
Loudly ejaculate the frequent cuss.
An aged Anglo-Indian oft I see
Who waggles endlessly upon the tee,
Causing impatience of the fiercest kind
To speedy couples pressing from behind.
Familiar also is the red-haired Pat
Who plays in rain or shine without a hat,
And who, whenever things are out of joint,
"Sockets" his iron shots to cover point.
Before ten thirty, also after five,
The links with lady players are alive,
At other seasons, by the rules in force,
Restricted to their own inferior course.
[Pg 108]
One matron, patient in her way as Job,
I've seen who nine times running missed the globe;
But then her daughter, limber maid, can smite
Close on two hundred yards the bounding Kite.
Dusk falls upon the bracken, bents and whins;
The careful green-keeper removes the pins,
To-morrow being Sunday, and the sward
Is freed from gutty and from rubber-cored.
Homeward unchecked by cries of "Fore!" I stroll,
Revolving many problems in my soul,
And marvelling at the mania which bids
Sexagenarians caracole like kids;
Which causes grave and reverend signiors
To talk for hours of nothing but their scores,
And worse, when baffled by a little ball,
On the infernal deities to call;
Which brightens overworked officials' lives;
Which bores to tears their much-enduring wives;
Which fosters the consumption of white port,
And many other drinks, both long and short.
Who then, in face of functions so diverse,
Will call thee, golf, a blessing or a curse?
Or choose between the Premier's predilection
And Rosebery's deliberate rejection?
Not mine to judge: I merely watch and note
Thy votaries as they grieve or as they gloat,
Uncertain whether envy or amaze
Or pity most is prompted by the craze.
[Pg 107]
Foreigner (who has "pulled" badly, and hit his partner in a tender spot), "Mille pardons, monsieur! My clob—he deceived me!"
[Pg 109]
Tommy. "I say, do you know who's winning?"
Ethel. "I think uncle must be—I heard him offer to carry auntie's clubs."
[Pg 110]
THE HOLE CONCERNScene—Any golf-club where an alteration of the course is in prospect.
Time—Any time, from dawn to dusk.
Characters—Any number of Members, plus (on this occasion) an Inoffensive Stranger.
First Member (catching sight of Inoffensive Stranger). Look here, Nobbs, you're an impartial judge, we'll have your opinion. What I say is this. If you take the present 4th hole and make it the 13th, putting the tee back ten yards behind the 12th, and carry the lower green fifteen yards to the right, and play the 2nd, 5th and 16th holes in reverse order, keeping clear of the ditch outside the 4th green, you'll bring——
Second Member. Oh, that's rubbish. Anybody with a grain of sense would see that you'd utterly ruin the course that way. My plan is to take the first three, the 11th, and the 14th—you understand, Nobbs?—(slowly and emphatically) the first three, the 11th, and the 14th.
Inoffensive Stranger. Yes?
[Pg 112]
Second M. (quickly). And leave 'em as they are. Leave 'em just exactly as they are. Then you do away with the next, make the 3rd into the 7th, and——
I.S. (horribly confused). But——
Third M. Yes, I know—you're thinking of the crossing from the 14th. And you're perfectly right. Simply fatal, that would be; too dangerous altogether. What we really want is a 2nd hole, and my plan would make a splendid one—really sporting, and giving these gentlemen who fancy their play a bit to do.
Second M. Don't know about that. Tried that patent 2nd hole of yours this morning out of curiosity. Holed it with my third, and might have done it in two, with a bit of luck.
Third M. (whistles expressively). Oh, come! Splendid player you are, and all that—handicap's fifteen, isn't it?—but there aren't many of us who would stand here and say calmly that we'd done a hole of 420 yards in three! Really, you know——
Second M. 420 yards? 130, you mean.
Third M. (defiantly). 420, if an inch.
[Pg 114]
Second M. But look here, you told me yourself only yesterday——
Third M. (slightly taken aback). Oh, ah, yes. I understand now. I did think, at one time, of making the 2nd a short hole. But this is quite a different idea. Miles better, in fact. It flashed across me quite suddenly at dinner-time last night. Sort of inspiration—kind of thing you can't account for—but there it is, you see.
Fourth M. Well, what you fellows can argue about like this beats me altogether. There's only one possible way of improving the course, and I showed you the plan of it last week. It won't be adopted—not likely. So good, and simple, and inexpensive that the committee won't look at it. Couldn't expect anything else. Anyhow (with an air of unappreciated heroism)—I've done my best for the club!
(Sighs heavily, and picks up a newspaper.)
Fifth M. (brutally). Oh, we know all about that blessed plan of yours. Now, I'm open to conviction. Mind you, I don't condemn anybody else's scheme. All that I say is, that if a man doesn't see that my plan is the best, he's a dunder-headed [Pg 116] jackass, and that's all about it. What do you think, Mr. Nobbs?
I.S. (rather nervously). Well, really—I hardly know—perhaps——
First M. (compassionately). Ah, it's those whins below the 17th that are bothering you. But if you exchange the 8th and the 10th——
Second M. (abruptly). Rot!
(The battle continues. The Inoffensive
Comments (0)