Belle, with Mary – and Kate
On the tee rather late –
Well wrapped in their fleeces, with brollies,
Swapped doubts on the weather
As all three together
Made final adjustments to trolleys.
The first drive by Mary
Was somewhat contrary
Although it was hit with a biff.
Kate’s looked like succeeding
– She’d even be leading –
But Belle’s soared over the cliff.
They got to the third,
Spirits dampened. No bird,
Ghastly bogeys and worse: very dismal.
On reaching the tenth
They’d no pitch, line or length,
Altogether acutely abysmal.
Kate, after twelve holes
Thought she’d switch to mat bowls,
While the other two felt they were sinking.
Belle, unfairly, laid blame
On poor Mary’s slow game,
For that’s what she really was thinking.
They limped to the last
Where each gave ball a blast.
Golly Gosh! All their drives were just thrilling.
With eagles the score
Might they want to play more?
When? Next week? Indeed, they are willing!