Lyrics

He takes his turn, the third man up
He eyeball lines it toward the cup
He open-faces to the right
It's in the woods, it's out of sight
He swears
To find it now he tries to pick the proper path
The scratchers all around him try to mute their laugh
He ricochets one off a tree
To reach the fairway takes him three
He's sitting fifty yards from tee
And lying four.

He tops the little dimpled sphere
But what a shame, it's still so near
At least, this time, it's in the clear
But people waiting in the rear
Impatiently request to play through

Oh, what the links can
Do to one man
Try your best and
whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh
Everybody knows
It ain't just a game

Next, he finds he's in a trap
The more he tries, the more he's apt
To hook or slice or chop the ground
He wonders why he's hanging round
And after this he's giving up the game

He takes too many strokes to reach the cup
And then he wanders o'er to pick his ball up
The next one is a par four
He birdies it and wants more
And he'll be back next week to duff again

Oh, what the links can
Do to one man
Try your best and
whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh
Everybody knows
It ain't just a game

Oh, what the links can
Do to one man
Try your best and
Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh
Everybody knows
He'll be back again