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I am round and white and dimpled, there’s a Swoosh mark on my hide,
My owner puts me on a peg then hits me short and wide
I have a smile carved into me from where he hit me fat
But he hasn’t lost or drowned me yet so I’ve gottten used to that
But if I could relive my life I’d like to really brag
That for just a day in the PGA I was a ball in Tiger’s bag.
I’d be there on the Sundays when he’s leading by a stoke
When he uses fewer swings as Phil and Vijay start to choke
Its fun to be a golf ball when it’s Tiger on his game
It strain my soul to fly and roll to the spot of Tiger’s aim
Getting eagles and those birdies as opponents start to sag
Fantastic would my life be as a ball in Tiger’s bag.
To have him lift me from a hole where I’ve helped him go ‘six under’
And he puts me in his pocket for the next tee where he’ll thunder
I dream the ride from one green to the next tee would be grand
His fingers grasp and rub me as he takes me in his hand
To be this close to greatness when his club-head starts to wag
Oh life would be a hole-in-one, were I a ball in Tiger’s bag.
At a tournament my duffer-owner won me as a prize
For being Honest Golfer though I know his scorecard lies
Me and eleven siblings found our way into a pocket
With his clubs and giant driver to launch me like a rocket
He hacks and swings so funny that I think his game’s a gag
But life would be so lovely, like his Swedish blonde is lovely,
OH! I wish I was a ball in Tiger’s bag.
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