On Saint Patrick’s morning I logged on to play;
I was so proud and happy to be Irish that day.
And sure and begora’ I had reason and all,
For the W.G.T had promised one Smokey Ball.
And green was the colour, what more could I ask;
As I learned how to change that auld ball in my sack;
The on to the first tee, and I hit it a whack,
And watched that green vapour rise up and fall back.
It flew over bunkers, water and trees;
Then landed on greens with the greatest of ease;
I could make it fade right; but I just didn’t care,
I just loved that green comet flying up through the air.
There was onetime I hit it, and it made me so proud,
For a second or two it was lost in the clouds.
(and now the sad bit)
I went off for lunch, some french-fries and steak,
Then after a while, went to play on Wolf Creek.
But Oh, what a shock! When I opened my sack,
The green ball was gone, and the auld one was back.
Do Leprechauns’ still play tricks on this day?
Or did they just want their ball back, so they could go play.