Dude's luck turns;
The putz can't win.
Then he hooks one in the elms,
His patience thin.
And so he goes
There; he's gonna try
To hit ball from rough,
Arc it up in the sky.
He kinda rude;
His etiquette stinks.
Klutz will injure

Lush links,
Di-vots.
Lush links,
Dig up.

Groomed green doomed from slice by slice.
Klutz gonna blight 'em, yes he is;
They won't look nice.
He'll miss the ball;
The divots fall
Like rain from sky,
After they soar.
He don't care for any caddie "no, sir!"-ing.
Plays through; they're wasted:

Lush links,
Di-vots.
Lush links,
Dig up.

He shoots with irons
Into the drink
He'll bitch and he'll bawl:

"*+^%$#@!
&*!@#+.!
#$%@!%$#^$&!
"&*!@#+.!"