Transcripts

SPEAKER: Whose woods these are, I think I know. A golfing pal from months ago. He dumped his bag and irons here when winter's winds began to blow.

[WIND BLOWING]

My foursome's late. I think it's queer. I played two rounds this day last year, but now, no divots will I take. I'm on the course, and there's no beer. Where once was grain, 'tis all a flake. I cannot see the sand trap rake. The cold winds flap my festive clothes. This teatime must be a mistake. My skin is cracked. My feet are froze, also, my eyes and ears and nose. The snow is blowing side to side.

Where fairways were, a glacier flows. I like to walk. I rarely ride. But for this round, I guess I'll glide. Beside the tee, my golf cart leaps. It says Polaris on the side. The course is lovely, bright, and--

[HEAVY WHACK]

--deep, deep, and left, and deep! [SIGHS] Now my tee shot will forever sleep within an icy hazards keep. No wonder greens fees were so cheap.