The guard must always change, Tiger, but it shouldn’t have changed so soon.

Lamenting what might have been.

Photo by: Chris Wellner

Tiger, Tiger, tell the treeth:
Were you as good as Jordan Speith?

Tiger, Tiger, speak the trayth:
Should you have hewed more to your faith?

Tiger, Tiger, say the tryth:
You lost it all when you lost your wife.

Tiger, Tiger, admit the troth:
You can’t have either when you scheme for both.

Tiger, Tiger, share the truth:
Would you be wiser with a second youth?


Yes, that would be poetry about golf, marriage and boundless regret. Where else can you go for stuff like this?

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