Golf Love Poem

I think that I shall never see a hazard rougher than an tree;

A tree oer which my ball must fly if on the green it is to lie;

A tree which stands that green to guard, and makes the shot extremely hard;

A tree whose leafy arms extend to kill the six iron shot I send;

A tree that stands in silence there, while angry golfers rave and swear.

Irons were made for fools like me who cannot ever miss a tree.

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