Driver cracks on up on the street;
Off the hy-drant he glances.
Had been hittin’ behind back of his sweet—
Puttin’ man; in he’s puttin’ his drive.

A number five was smashin’ the glass:
Impassioned wife made him gory.
His niblick gripped by a dream piece of ass.
Swing of wife: slice, so he’s still alive.

It’s the wife of the Tiger; she’s steamed and she’ll fight,
Risin’ up with the club, but his survival
Was assured because she sliced sans a knife on that night.
She was hot, took a shot but not demised the Tiger.

On his face, like ball on tee
Was her muff; he was hungry,
Stuck in the rough. . .there’s lay in the peat;
Gotta drive o’er the hill post-ruff-dive.

It’s the pie of the Tiger; she’s steamed up alright. . .
“Country” club—it’s a homophone’s arrival.
Swives were rife but not with wife. . .risked his life on those nights.
She was hot; she was hot—sweetie pies of the Tiger.

Drivin’ tup, straight goes the shot
In the rut. Then the story
Hits Internet; spouse goes over the top;
Shtuppin’ man treats her ill, takes a drive.

It’s the wife of the Tiger; she’s steamed up alright,
Risin’ up with the club, but his survival
Was assured because she sliced sans a knife on that night.
She was hot; he’d been caught in the pie had the Tiger.