by Charlie Morgan (aka His Eagleness)

His Eagleness flew on wings of splendor To Desert Canyon (with the other gender) Dreaming of updrafts and swoops so fine And even the perfect putting line. 

With fees so high and the distance so far 
He assumed it was reasonable to expect Par 
And as he warmed up his thoughts did not change For he struck the ball well on the Driving Range. 

In anticipation he waits in the cart 
To hear his name called for the inevitable 'start' And with grounds so lovely and greens well kept He stepped to the tee box and soon he wept. 

His first shot was paltry (a mere few yards) 
And so out came the mulligan (offered by his pards) "What's up with that?" his Eagleness screeched, And then hit his next ball into the beach. 

Not really a beach, but a pile of stuff With sand and sage and ground so rough It wasn't deep but slightly hollowed 
And the Eagle's ball had been swallowed. 

Eaten - Gone - No longer in sight This was to be the day-long plight. Eaten - Gone - No longer in play This was to be the plight of the day.

 As the round went on there were shots to admire 
At times one might say "The Eagle's on fire!" 
In the heat of the day with his jaw set and clenched The fire became smoke and then became quenched. 

Quenched by errant shots like bananas 
Shots that hit the tops of Cabanas 
Shots that went South - Shots that went North 
Shots that went back when they should have gone forth. 

With 14 penalty strokes on display 
And so many other games he could play 
You might think the Eagle would call it a day But really he looks at it in this way. 

"It's a round of golf - a thing of beauty. 
Yes the course kicked me - right in the booty. On hole 18 - I shot par 
I remembered that as I got in the car" 

So he'll "Keep Coming Back" and try it again 
He'll keep showing up to be with his friends. 
"That's It!" said the Eagle - "I have spoken. 
Just stay clear of my wings - right now they are broken"