Tiger, Tiger, in the night
Fleeing the wrath and fight
Of a woman cruelly spurned
Beyond your bridges now burned.
Now we know along the fairway
All the fair lady you laid.
How many birdies have had it
When you removed the green jacket.
He would putter here and putter there.
Taking his strokes with great care.
Master of his driver most of all
He would par each and every hole.
We thought he was above the gallery
Not knowing his nights of harlotry.
But sometimes when you walk the edge
Your wife’ll bop you with a sand wedge.
Smashed your car that must be tough.
Now you’re buried in the rough.
How must it be to be the joke
Where every comic takes a poke
At slamming you off the tee?
As your sponsors begin to flee;
Tiger, Tiger, Hiding in your house
Once though the man, now a mouse.
Illustration: Photo off the Internet, source unknown