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 done

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 HOLED IN ONE.'