BEASTLY TALES

THE SNOB

Horatio, the Golf Club, yearned to join,
But he didn’t have sponsors, and not enough coin.
The waiting list was a year, or three,
And a titled person it was preferable to be.
He wondered if he might get a letter from the Duke of York.
Perhaps, if he sent a vintage wine with cork?
Then there was the Earl of Lancaster,
Who he thought could be a bit of a disaster.
But, never-the-less, he carried some clout,
And Horatio wanted IN, and not OUT.

When he tried to play golf others would snub,
Horatio until, in frustration, he went to the Pub.
There, the riff raff would give him the drub,
Until he was forced to go home alone,
Where, to whining and moaning he was prone.
“What can I do to make things better?”
“I must get out to be a real go-getter.”
“I’ll have cards embossed as “Royal Equerry,”
“And drink only the finest of Spanish Sherry.”
“I must go and tell others just how grand I am,”
“And give an appearance of wealth to complete the sham.”

This is just what he determined to do.
To convince golf club members his blood was blue.
But such contrivance did not succeed,
For everyone knew he was just a half breed.
“Application for membership unanimously rejected.”
So said the letter he received after he’d hectored,
The committee on a daily basis,
To permit him to join this golfing oasis.

Horatio, in golfing terms, felt, “in the rough,”
He was tired. He’d had enough.
If I cannot succeed with “a hole in one,”
“I’ll ensure that no-one has any fun!”
So out he went, and hired a caddy,
He wasn’t a good one, only a baddy.
Handing him a wad of dough,
“I’m a grass expert, don’t you know?”
“So pour this liquid all around the greens”
“And your bosses will promote you, by all means.”
The stupid caddy took the can of weed killer,
And scurried around like a demented gorilla.
Just then, a golfer shouted, “fore!”
And whacked a golf ball into Horatio’s jaw!
Whilst Horatio didn’t have too much fun,
He had been the subject of a hole in one!