I was out playing golf the other day, and funeral cortege went by around the 7th hole.
One of the members of our foursome took a hat off his head, put it to his breast until
the funeral cortege had passed.
And I said, you know, Jim, that was a really nice gesture.
He said, well, it was the least I could do.
We'd been married 25 years.
Yes, well, this old joke does say something important about golf.
It's not as much a sport as an obsession.

Hey, let's play golf.
Golf is wonderful - who could scoff
At getting up at the crack of dawn on my day off?
And later on, when evening falls,
I admire the sunset as I wash my balls.

My short game works well for me.
The only problem is it's off the tee.
And by the time I reach the 18th green,
I've been to places the Indians haven't seen.

Golf, I'm yelling 'fore!'
Golf, but eight is my score.
Golf, hey, let's play golf.

When it comes to golf, I never scrimp.
When else can a middle-aged man dress like a pimp?
And golf must be the only sport where
I can spend the whole day with hookers and my wife doesn't care.

The other day I played with my friend Fred.
And on the 11th hole, Fred dropped dead.
The memory of that still makes me sad.
It was the worst day I ever had.
Hit the ball, drag Fred.
Hit the ball, drag Fred.
Golf, hey, let's play golf.
But I'm not complaining, golf, unless it's raining.
Golf, hey, let's play golf.