It hurts on the back swing, it hurts when I bend I'm stiff as a board when the flag I attend.
So I went to the Doc with a list a mile long He said not to worry, I was one of a throng.
My case wasn't special, my symptoms not rare As he poked and he probed, all my secrets laid bare.
There are hundreds of cases of arthritis he stated And the type that I have, is much over rated.
So he seemed to lose interest in my case right away And he waddled and staggered as he wandered away.
His nurse said he had choked on the very first tee He had swallowed on a divot, she confided to me.
Now, how in the world was this old golfer treated? All these expensive drugs will just be excreted.
But in pain I continue, though my affliction is plain I notice it most when I'm out in the rain.
My golf swing is spastic when I try to swing loose My shoulders don't seem to catch my caboose.
There must be alternatives to turning so stiff But with THAT considered, I feel just terriff!
I'm feeling less pain as I gawk at each girl If they are clairvoyant, their hair will uncurl.
While out on the course and a cute babe walks by I suck in my gut and try to look spry.
So, arthritis or not, in my heart I'm a stud But the babes that I ogle, they see Elmer Fudd.
The pain is subsiding as I stare at each peach But with a sore back, they are all out of reach.
