Old Charlie liked his golf, but he was eighty,

his eyesight wasn’t what it used to be,

he told his best mate Peter: “Damn it, Matey,

I hit the thing okay, but I can’t see!

“I lose so many balls it’s horrifying,

they fly into the air and disappear,

the golf shop loves me – profits there are flying,

whenever I walk in the place they cheer!”

“My Dad,” his mate replied, “can be your caddy,

he needs a hobby now he lives alone,

you play your round and take along my Daddy,

he’ll see exactly where your ball has flown.”

Old Charlie laughed and told him in derision:

“But he turns ninety-nine in May next year!”

But Peter said: “With twenty-twenty vision -

he might be old, but he can see and hear!”

The Annual Cup this weekend - Charles was in it,

a new electric buggy was the prize,

he’d tried in vain for many years to win it,

“Okay,” he said, “your Dad can be my eyes!”

That Saturday, old Charlie went to tee it,

he said “Watch this” and hit it in the air,

he lost it, asked Pete’s Father: “Did you see it?”

the old man nodded sagely, and said: “Yair!”

“You ripper!” Charlie yelled, “that’s so exquisite!

I’ll win that bloody Monthly Medal yet!”

He shook the old man’s hand and asked: “Where is it?”

The ninety-nine year-old said: “I forget!”

more of my FUNNY POEMS here