The grass is green, a club in my hand;
Adrenaline build up, on the first tee I stand.
My first shot is hoisted, my drive is used;
A shot in the fairway, that makes me confused.
An iron I’ll retrieve, a journey towards the hole;
The flag is above, the ball is below.
With my club in the air, I line up my putt;
And decide in which direction, the greens have been cut.
Then comes the swing, I gently connect;
The ball runs smoothly, into the open net.
I made my putt, it surely was time;
Then ripped out the scorecard, and wrote down a nine.
-Written by Drew Felton (4-18-2000)