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Written by Scott Robertson
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Sunday, 18 May 2008 |
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This is something scary new for me, maybe my chesse has slipped off it's cracker. :P This poem, limerick, or whatever it is, just came blurting out while practicing today. driver, golf ball, wooden tee, no slice, no hook, not even a tree, beach is nice, ocean ain't free, one putt or two, but none of three. Play well, everyone.
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