Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3811/The First Tee

by A. A. Milne

THE FIRST TEE.

(Mullion, July 17th.)

It is the place, it is the place, my soul!
 (Blow, bugle, blow; sing, triangle; toot, fife!)
Down to the sea the close-cropped pastures roll,
Couches behind yon sandy hill the goal
 Whereat, it may be, after ceaseless strife
The "Colonel" shall find peace, and Henry say, "Your hole"...

  Caddie, give me my driver, enddie,
   The sun shines hot, but there's half a breeze,
  Enough to rustle the tree-tops, laddie,
   Only supposing there were some trees;
 The year's at the full and the morn's at eleven,
 It's a wonderful day just straight from Heaven,
 And this is a hole I can do in seven—
      Caddie, my driver, please.

Three times a day from now till Monday week
 (Ten peerless days in all) I take my stand
Vestured in some dégagé mode of breek
(The chess-board touch, with squares that almost speak),
 And lightly sketch my Slice into the Sand,
As based on bigger men, but much of it unique...

  Caddie, give me my driver, caddie,
   Note my style on the first few tees;
  Duncan fashioned my wrist-work, laddie,
   Taylor taught me to twist my knees;
  I've a beautiful swing that I learnt from Vardon
  (I practise it sometimes down the garden—
  "My fault! Sorry! I beg your pardon!")—
      Caddie, my driver, please.

Only ten little days, in which to do
 So much! E.g., the twelfth: ah it was there
The Secretary met his Waterloo,
But perished gamely, playing twenty-two;
 His clubs (ten little days!) lie bleaching where
Sea-poppies blow (ten days!) and wheeling sea-birds mew...

  Caddie, give me my driver, caddie,
  Let us away with thoughts like these;
  A week and a-half is a lifetime, laddie,
   The day that's here is the day to seize;
 Carpe diem—yes, that's the motto,
 "Work be jiggered!" and likewise "What ho!"
 I'm not going back till I've jolly well got to!
      Caddie, my driver, please.
A. A. M.

 

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