Oh, Jockie, crushed wi' grief and shame, A prey to fear, remorse and blame, Like vessel storm-stressed in the bay, Her rudder gone, her masts away; Left to the mercy of the waves, and tossed A helpless hulk and well-nigh lost. Belief in succour still remained, The distant life-boat hope sustained. So, stranded in this awful hole, I turned to Heaven to save my soul. I prayed, beseeched the powers on high, To help me in my agony. I prayed, as ne'er I prayed before; In anguish keen I vowed and swore, This trouble gone, this sorrow ended, My wicked life should be amended; This struggle o'er, this combat passed, This drucken bout should be my last. Then hope, sweet hope, began to flow, And swell my breast with genial glow; Self-trust and courage that had gane Wi' fiery rush, cam' back again. My native pride, love o' the game, Blazed in my heart like altar flame. I felt that tho' a fool I'd been, I still could battle for the green. Resolved, restored, I rose defiant, O'er doubts and fears I sprang triumphant. 'Clootie,' says I, as cool and cheeky As lawyer lad frae gude Auld Reekie, 'I'm willin' to resume the game, A stroke a hole, and terms the same. But had I kent what I ken noo, And sober been, instead o' fou, I'd seen you fried in your ain brimstane Ere I had linked to sic a bargain. A bargain ca' it, wi' changed condeetions That won't admit of defineetions. The man I bargained wi', in boots, Is now a beast wi' tail and cloots, And----' 'Confound your cheek, you old transgressor, You phrase and jaw like a Professor. Enough of all this d--d palaver, Your blasted bletherin' and haver. My tail, it is a thing of beauty, By Jove, you'll find it do its duty. Between us you will see such golf, Ere long you'll cry "I've had enough." Then tee your ball, resume your game, Strike off once more for purse and fame.' But Skipper, pause and kindly tell us About that tail, it is so curious.