PH Watson
Augusta in August, a hundred degrees
Brought PH Watson down to his knees
No wishes for pars or birdies, instead
Just give him a towel to wipe his wet head.
But, wait, the smell from this dirty old rag,
Almost enough as to make a man gag,
This towel is stained with large spots of yellow
Why, this rag is covered with dirty cat piddle!
To wipe, or not wipe, just what would you do
If such a poor choice should be handed to you.
As to PH Watson, that man among men
He wiped, and wiped and then wiped again!