Hey you in the Field, I yield, the capability, to let free, the imagery, that is my golfing, so i swing, but under pressure, i will for sure, not do well, so i will spell, it out, do not shout, when we do bad, it makes us sad, and glad, when golf is over,, cuz then we leave like mars rovers, and go home, where we can be alone, away from you, the one who, is quick to correct, instead of direct, and will try to erect, a hollow monument, to try and be contempt, with your ability, and frankly, i must say, on this day, that you have none, so you best run, before i get up, and fuck you up.