Doing things, living life,
Going places, wearing sweaters,
Looking cool in calm or strife,
And being the 'go' type of getters.

We'll be the hardest sort of hitters
When we need to be that way.
When we're hiring baby-sitters
We're full of life, and light as day.

When we're firing those who seem
To be the bull-est of all sitters,
So full of it they'd fill a team,
Then we're snarling angry critters.

When we're playing golf we'll be
Somewhere in between those poles.
Seething anger, you won't see.
We'll never fight like drunken proles.

But sometimes tensions overflow,
Like once while on a long par five.
My playing partner blamed a crow
For blatant cheating with his drive.

He found the heavy rough in trees.
He blamed the cold I always bring.
He claimed that I had timed my sneeze
To coincide with his back swing.

With feigned surprise he found his ball
On the fairway, near the green.
The spot was nowhere near at all
To where I thought the ball had been.

He said a crow had picked it up,
And flown away, and dropped it here.
And yes, it's closer to the cup.
He'd warned the crow. He'd made it clear

That he opposed these interventions,
Even if it helped his cause.
I doubt that he'd reject intentions
Of his small black Santa Claus.

I accused him there of cheating.
He said I sneezed to great effect.
He obviously deserved a beating,
But I chose wit and intellect.

When his wife's two eyebrows wake
And find themselves upon her face,
They never hesitate to make
Their way to some less open place.

They like the safety of her hair.
It's where they seem to be at home.
She'll always find them hiding there.
She tells them that they shouldn't roam.

When they're on their merry way
From their beds above her eyes,
She could be sad or sunshine's ray,
But still her face will show surprise.

Sometimes one of them will leave
Before the other one has woken.
She looks as if she can't believe
A word of what has just been spoken.

I thought of her. I said she'd be
Surprised to hear about the crow.
He swung his pitching wedge at me.
This life-long friend became a foe.

So began our par-five fight,
Which soon descended to a brawl.
But in the pub that very night
We drank and laughed about it all.

The main thing to remember here
Is that we fought before the drink.
It lacks class to get drunk on beer
And then to fight, and then to think.