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The Perfect Approach
GEORGE S. CHAPPELL
WHEN Cupid caddies, lack-a-day, How golfing precepts fade away, ^ And how the ball, as if possessed, At every stroke, seeks out a nest In some romantic woodland grot Where hearts are played and golf is not.
E'en on the green, the loving twain The stupid rules of golf disdain,
And, chatting chummily, ignore The irate rival's cry of "Fore!"
While Cupid smiles, as if he knew That "Fore" means Naught to such a Two!
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