Whether the Cup be filled with Scotch or Bock.

A Bag of Clubs, a Silver-Town or two,
A Flask of Scotch, a Pipe of Shag--and Thou
Beside me caddying in the Wilderness--
Ah, Wilderness were Paradise enow.

They say the Female and the Duffer strut
On sacred Greens where Morris used to put;
Himself a natural Hazard now, alas!
That nice hand quiet now, that great Eye shut.

I sometimes think that never springs so green
The Turf as where some Good Fellow has been,
And every emerald Stretch the Fair Green shows
His kindly Tread has known, his sure Play seen.

Myself when young did eagerly frequent
Jamie and His, and heard great argument
Of Grip and Stance and Swing; but evermore
Found at the Exit but a Dollar spent.

With them the seed of Wisdom did I sow,
And with mine own hand sought to make it grow;
And this was all the Harvest that I reaped:
"You hold it This Way, and you swing it So."

The swinging Brassie strikes; and, having struck,
Moves on: nor all your Wit or future Luck
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Stroke,