Golf Poetry Jam

We have been busy golfing the past few days, and I wrote a little poetry about the beautiful game.

We ventured out onto the course,
crushing balls with full force.
On hole two it was really sweet,
when I sank my putt from 20 feet.

Hole #3 was not as nice,
when my ball slid out on the ice.
On hole #4 something did disturb my niche,
that bombing raid by a hundred geese.

A flock bombarded our attempts at valour,
by coming at us like the Japs at Pearl Habour!
As disastrous as the wars of Punic,
I'm losing more balls than a eunuch.

The game of golf is not as fun,
when staring directly into the sun.
It is another terrific day,
to get on the course and play!

The ground last night it did freeze,
on the boulevard of broken tees!
My bad aim, I rescind,
as I'm running against the wind.

My hybrid iron was my nifty pick,
to ride captain ride to the 150 stick
That is all I have to say for now,
But I'll be back tomorrow with a pow!