• The 10 Best Caddy Replies

    Golfer: Think I'm going to drown myself in the lake.
    Caddy: Think you can keep your head down that long?

    Golfer: I'd move heaven and earth to break 100 on this course.
    Caddy: Try heaven, you've already moved most of the earth.

    Golfer: Do you think my game is improving?
    Caddy: Yes sir, you miss the ball much closer now.

    Golfer: Do you think I can get there with a 5 iron?
    Caddy: Eventually.

    Golfer: You've got to be the worst caddy in the world.
    Caddy: I don't think so sir. That would be too much of a coincidence.

    Golfer: Please stop checking your watch all the time. It's too much of A distraction.
    Caddy: It's not a watch : it's a compass.

    Golfer: How do you like my game?
    Caddy: Very good sir, but personally, I prefer golf.

    Golfer: Do you think it's a sin to play on Sunday?
    Caddy: The way you play, sir, it's a sin on any day.

    Golfer: This is the worst course I've ever played on.
    Caddy: This isn't the golf course. We left that an hour ago.

    Best Caddy Comment
    Golfer: That can't be my ball, it's too old.
    Caddy: It's been a long time since we teed off, sir.
  • A Lullaby for Golfers

    A lullaby for Golfers: In My Hand I Hold A Ball,
    White And Dimpled, And Rather Small.
    Oh, How Bland It Does Appear,
    This Harmless Looking Little Sphere.

    By Its Size I Could Not Guess,
    The Awesome Strength It Does Possess.
    But Since I Fell Beneath Its Spell,
    I've Wandered Through The Fires Of Hell.

    My Life Has Not Been Quite The Same,
    Since I Chose To Play This Stupid Game.

    It Rules My Mind For Hours On End;
    A Fortune It Has Made Me Spend.

    It Has Made Me Curse And Made Me Cry,
    And Hate Myself And Want To Die.
    It Promises Me A Thing Called Par,
    If I Hit It Straight And Far.

    To Master Such A Tiny Ball,
    Should Not Be Very Hard At All.
    But My Desires The Ball Refuses,
    And Does Exactly As It Chooses.

    It Hooks And Slices, Dribbles And Dies,
    And Disappears Before My Eyes.
    Often It Will Have A Whim,
    To Hit A Tree Or Take A Swim.

    With Miles Of Grass On Which To Land,
    It Finds A Tiny Patch Of Sand.
    Then Has Me Offering Up My Soul,
    If Only It Would Find The Hole.

    It's Made Me Whimper Like A Pup,
    And Swear That I Will Give It Up.
    And Take To Drink. To Ease My Sorrow,
    But The Ball Knows: I'll Be Back Tomorrow.