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This poem is often wrongly thought to be by Robert W Service. It is published here to the memory of Hugh Antoine D'Arcy, its rightful father.
An Evening with the Bard of the Yukon, July 18 th 2003 at 20.30pm in the Town-Hall of Lancieux, Brittany.
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Triumph

Published by Susan on 08/08/2003 (2170 reads)
Why am I full of joy although...

Why am I full of joy although
   It drizzles on the links?
Why am I buying Veuve Cliquot ,
   And setting up the drinks?
Why stand I like a prince amid
   My pals and envy none?
Ye gods of golf! Today I did
   A Hole in One.

I drove my ball to heaven high,
   It over-topped the hill;
I tried to guess how it would lie,
   If on the fairway still.
I climbed the rise, so sure I'd hit
   It straight towards the green:
I looked and looked,--no trace of it
   Was to be seen.

My partner putted to the pin,
   Then hoarse I heard him call;
And lo! So snug the hole within
   Gleamed up my ball.
Yea, it was mine. Oh what a thrill!
   What dandy drive I'd done
By luck,--well, grant a little skill,
   I'd holed in one.

Say that my score is eighty odd,
   And though I won't give up,--
Say that as round the course I plod,
   I never win a cup.
Say that my handicap's nineteen,
   And of my game make fun,
But holler: 'On the seventh green
   HE HOLED IN ONE.'

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