The following song is to be sung to the tune of The Beatles' "Day In The Life" from their Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band album released in the hip 1960s, when weed was the second thing John, Paul, George, and Ringo packed before traveling, right after their Buddy Holly records.
Although the iambic pentameter may wander here, I've adapted the song's melody to recent and dastardly developments in my golf game. Fore!
They burned the rough today, oh boy,
A thousand balls of mine went up in smoke.
They're each three bucks, now I am broke.
Well, I just had to pause.
I got no balls from Santa Claus.
It blew my mind out did that fire.
Our $250,000 truck did not respond.
A crowd of people stood and stared,
They've seen the blaze before.
Nobody was really sure if the balls were mine,
I wandered through the burn, oh boy.
The greenskeeper had just won the war.
The crowd of people turned away,
But I just had to look,
Cuz it's my fade and hook, I'd like to turn them off.
Woke up, fell out of bed,
And rushed to the cart shed.
Found the cart, and some tees,
And frantically looked around, no balls could be found.
I'm the best hacker, pound for pound.
Found my clubs, grabbed my bag.
Made the tee in seconds flat.
Found my way downstairs and had a smoke.
And somebody spoke and I went postal.
You can't play golf without balls.
I'm in a quandry what to do.
Three bucks a ball really irks the wife.
And all my shots either hook or slice.
So I'm givin' up the game, my swing is really lame.
My balls no match for flames.
They burned the rough today, oh boy.
A thousand balls of mine lost in the fire.
And though the balls were rather small,
They had to count them all,
Now they know how many balls it takes to fill the Albert Hall.
(Like my game, the music fades to end.)