At 'Hole Across,' the bunker of H--l, To my surprise he kent it well; He girned and cackled and looked excited As if wi' secret thoughts delighted. I drove weel o'er, wi' grand precision, And lay serene on sod Elysian. Clootie on purpose missed his ba', And landed slap intil its maw. Then, Jock, a sicht I saw, so strange and awfie, Unseen, unheard o', and unlawfie! Loud laughter rose from H--l within, Wild shouts and cries o' welcomin'; While over the edge, peepin' and peerin' Through the long grass, and disappearin', Were seen strange forms, like horned apes, And other brutes wi' fearsome shapes, Goblins grinning wi' blazing een, Bogles or ghaists, or a cross between. But strange, when we the bunker neared, They'd vanished all and disappeared. And nocht remained but an infernal smell Of brimstone reek, true stink o' H--l. Clootie gaed smilin' in, rejoiced to be At hame, his bonny bairns to see; His ball he found, both safe and playable. 'Play quick,' cried I, 'this smell is d--able.' 'Pause, Skipper, 'tis my favourite scent,' says he, 'Bouquet d'Enfer, a perfume sweet to me. You lack good taste, you drunken sot, To me this is a charming spot; But play I must,' and, as he spoke, He drove forthwith a splendid stroke; But of little good it proved to be, For again I took the hole in three. 'Four up,' I said, 'my gallant foe; If this goes on you'll come to woe.' 'All right,' says he, 'my chance will come, I'll show you play when we turn home. To see your game was such a treat, Great was my luck with you to meet; You are indeed a beauty without paint, The picture of a drouthy saint.' And thus he sneered and scoffed and chaffed, While at my speech he mocked and laughed; From fearing I began to hate him, And vow'd I'd do my best to beat him. But man is frail, and human vows Aye come to nocht, when they oppose The powers that rule for good or evil, And my opponent was the Deevil. Blind, stupid, and wi' drink demented, I couldna see nor comprehend it; But soon, alas! I learned the truth, Wi' mental pain and muckle ruth.