Sir John Betjeman wrote this poem. A British poet Laureate and occasional golfer. He is no longer with us but his words live on.
How straight it flew, how long it flew,
It cleared the rutty track
And soaring disappeared from view
Beyond the bunkers back-
A glorious, sailing, bounding drive
That made me glad I was alive.
And down the fairway, far and long
It glowed a lonely white;
I played an iron sure and strong
And clipp’d it out of sight,
And spite of grassy banks between
I knew I’d find it on the green.
And so I did. It lay content
Two paces from the pin;
And steady put and then it went
Oh most surely in.
The very turf rejoiced to see
That quite unprecedented three.
Ah! Seaweed smells from sandy caves
And thyme and mist in whiffs;
In-coming tide, Atlantic waves
Slapping the sunny cliffs,
Lark song and sea sounds in the air
And splendor, splendor, everywhere.
Have a wonderful Christmas and A Happy New Year!