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Post by rgodel on Jul 10, 2009 9:24:56 GMT -5
I am one of the "Crazy 8" three, Whom Dave said, "Come play with me!", Though neither crazy or brave, It's just something I crave, Next year why don't yall come and see!
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Post by Dave the editer on Jul 13, 2009 7:54:17 GMT -5
A venerable poet named John crossed wits with a wordsmith named Ron as John read the club list he said to his nem'sis Look! Your name and mine rhyme with Don!
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Post by Dave the editer on Jul 13, 2009 8:06:26 GMT -5
A golfer called by the name Wood each week as a Sunday came, would exchange his high number for one even dumber, and then he would always blame wood.
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Post by johnwood on Jul 13, 2009 20:56:43 GMT -5
An update on an epic limerick by poet Woody:
I once heard in the stories of old Of a course that was short but quite bold It was set on a hill With woods deep dark and still Built by gnomes and elves so it's told.
Now the fellows of Williamson County Like to play in the natural bounty Of its hills and the vales Filled with snakes skunks and snails And sometimes a wayward Royal Mountie'!
They decided to build once again Such a course that would make mice of men So be sure to stop by This 16th. of July The Legend will start there 6pm!
You'll find baskets numbered 1 thru 10 Play the other Tees, go round' again Just like Lance at 'The Tour' Though there's climbs to endure 'LIBERTY' is our beautiful friend.
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Post by ratskrad on Jul 17, 2009 10:26:07 GMT -5
Finally last night, with it's trees so tall, Liberty opened and we had a ball. Dignitaries spoke (and some other folk) To those involved - Thanks to you all!
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Post by Dave the editer on Jul 20, 2009 12:27:22 GMT -5
An Epic Ode to Crockett Discgolf Course
or, how I spent my Sunday afternoon
by Dave the editer
The first hole at Crockett, it greets me— Wide open! You’ll reach!—it entreats me. Just one tree to miss, then my disc will see bliss, and more often than not it just eats me.
The second is one in partic’lar to drive you must be quite a stickler. Keep it right, make it long. I go left, that be wrong— my next throw must be perpendic’lar.
On hole three I can get pars with ease: toss it out, short approach, hit my threes. But the birdie I crave must zip out of the cave without playing pinball with the trees.
On four if by chance you hit any pedestrians’ head, or their fanny as they walk on the path, drop a stroke, do the math; I add one ’cause it’s an old granny.
I hit that high branch, then, by golly, threw into the trees—oh, what folly! Then my third on hole five at last reached your first drive and my fourth fell behind all that holly.
Most trees I’ve seen—’cept ones are dying— hold branches up like they’re high-fiving. There’s a bodock on six that has learned some new tricks: it leans down to stop drives while they’re flying.
Hole seven. I’m up. They say, “Go, man!” I try for an uphill, straight throw, an’ I hit the first tree bounce left, and I see a short little hole make a snowman.
There’s no challenge at all on hole eight: there’s the basket—just throw the disc straight. Well, if that’s so the case, where’s my deuce? Where’s my ace!? It seems bogie or worse is my fate.
My drive on hole nine when we found it in someone’s backyard out of bounds, it gave me a great fright, so the next two went right. So it's eight, with three circles around it.
On ten I screw up my ambition to throw a long drive that’s a vision! Tucked under the tree! I walk down and see the basket is in short position.
Eleven can be in the valley or bluff overlooking the alley. Which one doesn’t matter if my drives I scatter— from brambles I’ll score a high tally.
There’s rumors that some of the pros go over the top with their throws on twelve. I don’t doubt that; I only found out that this old man is not one of those.
Hole thirteen seems out of compliance with rules they have down to a science. To need steps to reach it’s enough to impeach it, unless it’s been set up for giants.
My drive on hole fourteen went my way: turned over, quite high in the sky, way out wide to the left, then you found me bereft when the wind blew my disc ’cross the highway.
By fifteen I finally REsign to give in to Ron’s careful DEsign. I aim for the thicket— it seems that’s the ticket— but blow it and hit the red tee sign.
Hole sixteen just isn’t that far. At last I should get me a par. My drive makes a beeline for under the tree line; I lose my best disc—’twas a star!
At seventeenth tee I don’t see that my back’s to the road (this will be bad). I focus on form a car blows its horn; my drive doesn’t reach the red tee pad.
By eighteen I feel like a dope, but launch one that gives me some hope for a par, but my next just confirms that I’m hexed: it lands in a lake made of rope.
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Post by becker on Jul 21, 2009 7:59:48 GMT -5
Brilliant! Bravo! Print this on posters and T-shirts for the WCDGC! Put it to music! Encore!
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Post by slowroll on Jul 21, 2009 10:43:39 GMT -5
The editor is quite the wordsmith.
NICE JOB Dave!
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Post by craigd on Jul 21, 2009 10:53:30 GMT -5
Dave is quite handy with pen. I had to go read it again. With frown on my face, I remembered that place, where I am usually over by ten.
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Post by RD on Jul 21, 2009 11:03:34 GMT -5
STELLAR!!! i love the ending (lake made of rope)
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Post by kidmills on Jul 21, 2009 13:43:43 GMT -5
last one for me oh it is such a pity i'm moving to kansas city i'd like to stay but the picture doesn't look pretty so off i go to the west i do wish everyone my best
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Post by RD on Jul 21, 2009 15:09:19 GMT -5
for kidmills;
I sure hate to see you leave a horton rematch will have to be you will always remember the day launching a discs on a crockett fairway Im sure the courses will be great in KC the worlds are there, sure the would be we'll miss ya, dont be a stranger to WCDGC
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Post by johnwood on Jul 21, 2009 18:27:03 GMT -5
Dave the Editer: Man you have raised the bar HIGH! Now we know what you really do at work! LOL Awesome...
Ron: Have Fun!
RD: Happy Birthday!!!
KidMills: Good Luck in KC. Do you know P.T. over here in Steel? He put in for KC also. Will you keep your recall rights?
Woody
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Post by kidmills on Jul 22, 2009 1:12:59 GMT -5
i do know PT.............nope it 30,000 for me
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Post by Dave the editer on Jul 22, 2009 9:19:26 GMT -5
Woody wrote: Now we know what you really do at work!
Actually, I spent most of Sunday afternoon and evening writing that--though I saw your car at Liberty when Richard and I played 10--and typed it in during my lunch hour. But I did waste a few minutes now and then looking for your response. I have laid down the gauntlet, "poet Woody," I eagerly await your rejoinder.
Dave the poet laureate
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