Why am I full of joy although
 It drizzles on the links?
Why am I buying Veuve Cliquot,
 And setting up the drinks?
Why stand I like a prince amid
 My pals and envy none?
Ye gods of golf! Today I did
 A Hole in One.

I drove my ball to heaven high,
 It over-topped the hill;
I tried to guess how it would lie,
 If on the fairway still.
I climbed the rise, so sure I'd hit
 It straight towards the green:
I looked and looked,--no trace of it
 Was to be seen.

My partner putted to the pin,
 Then hoarse I heard him call;
And lo! So snug the hole within
 Gleamed up my ball.
Yea, it was mine. Oh what a thrill!
 What dandy drive I'd done
By luck,--well, grant a little skill,
 I'd holed in one.

Say that my score is eighty odd,
 And though I won't give up,--
Say that as round the course I plod,
 I never win a cup.
Say that my handicap's nineteen,
 And of my game make fun,
But holler: 'On the seventh green
 HE HOLED IN ONE.'