A Golfer’s Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the greenNot a golfer was stirring, not even one seen.The golf gloves were hung by the chimney with care,In hopes that a tee time soon would be theirs.Little duffers were nestled all snug in their beds,While visions of birdies danced in their heads.My friend in her visor, and I in my cap,Had just stored our clubs for a long winter’s nap.With the course frozen over and no one about,I was walking alone when I heard someone shout.Away down the tenth
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