Donald the Dub

Listen to the tale of a stalwart male

Who lost his well known Nanny

Donald was his name and golf was the game

That made him grey as his Granny

He practised much but his style was such

That his handicap stayed at thirty

All the words he used when the ball he bruised

Were nothing else than dirty.

In the locker room every night

He’d sing of his awful plight

Oh! The dirty little pill went rolling down the hill

And rolled right into a bunker

From there to the green I took thirteen

And there by gosh I sunk ‘er.

I get no fun in the air and sun

But down in the traps I labour

I sweat and weep where the sand is deep

Till I want to murder my neighbour.

(Spoken)

(thwack!) Oh! Baby, look at that drive. Wheee!

Now whoa, whoa. Whoa you… (out of bounds)

Alright, caddy, give me another ball.

There was one great day that came his way

His score he was sure to diminish

Never had such form, then up came a storm

He was never able to finish

He had a slice that was far from nice

From him it never parted

Once a year that shot, believe it or not

Came right back where it started.

Do you wonder that he groans

And sighs and wails and moans.

Oh! The dirty little pill went rolling down the hill

And rolled right into the water

And the reason it would seem, I lifted my beam

When I know I shouldn’t oughter.

Then I hit a shot that I liked a lot

But it sailed right into the marshes

And I wished right then, like a lot of other men

That I had worn my galoshes.

Hey, Donald, how many shots did you take over in that rock pile?

Let me see, one two three, er six I believe.

Oh! You dirty so-and-so. I counted twelve times I heard your club hit something.

Well, er, the other six were echoes.

Now Donald the Dub joined the country club

And found a fellow duffer

Just as bad as he, so with shouts of glee

They started out to suffer.

They played nine holes, and the poor little moles

Were never scared so badly

For the divots flew, and the cuss words too

And the birds and the bees left gladly

As the end of the day drew nigh

Came a song that was sung with a sigh

Oh! The dirty little pill went rolling down the hill

And rolled right into the club house

When I got there with sand in my hair

They changed it’s name to the Dub house.

I’ve wrecked more ground than Columbus found

And the guy that I am after

Is the crazy scot who invented this plot,

That’s robbed all the world of laughter

Now Donald the Dub broke club after club

As he told the world goodbye

For he suffered every hour when his game went sour

Even as you and I.

—Frank Crumit, sung in BBC's adaption of P.G. Wodehouse's The Oldest Member.