In my hand I hold a ball - White, dimpled and rather small;
Oh, how bland it does appear - This harmless looking little sphere;
By its size I could not guess - The awesome strength it does possess.
But, since I fell beneath its spell - I've wandered through the fires of hell;
My life’ s not been quite the same - Since I chose to play this stupid game;
It rules my mind for hours on end - A fortune it has made me spend;
It has made me swear and yell and cry - I hate myself and want to die;
It promises a thing called par - If I can hit the ball straight and far;
To master such a tiny ball - Should not be very hard at all;
But, all my desires the ball refuses - And does exactly like it chooses;
It hooks, slices, dribbles and dies - And even disappears before my eyes;
Often, it will take a whim - To hit a tree or take a swim;
With miles of grass on which to land - It finds a tiny patch of sand;
Then has me offering up my soul - If only once, it would find the hole;
It's made me whimper like a pup - And swear that I will give it up;
And take a drink to ease my sorrow - but, the little ball knows I'll be back tomorrow!