_Maecenas reminds the Emperor of a rash promise._
“Octavius, I’ve often heard you say
That you’d cut out the work some sunny day,
And have a look at our new country club.
Why not this aft, old top? Put on a sub;
Come down and watch us shoot a round of golf,
Whether you stay to play or stay to scoff.”
_Augustus returns a laconic “Nix.”_
“Nix on that golf stuff,” said the Emperor,
And so to prod him further I forbore.
Grabbing my clubs I chucked them in my car,
And made the two miles to the links in par;
While Caesar, peeved at having stood me off,
Let go the following remarks on golf:
_Augustus defines golf as his notion of zero in recreations._
“War, glory, statecraft, and the Muses Nine
No longer charm these golf-mad friends of mine;
Wine, skirts, and song have also lost their hold
Beside this strange new game that, I am told,
By old and young and wise and foolish played is—
For which I would not give a hoot in Hades.
Me for the play or moving picture show,
A hand at bridge, or any game with go;
But chasing white pills round a vacant lot
Is my idea of entertainment, _not_.
_But he decides to look it over._
“But here I am, singing the same old tune.
I’ve really not much on this afternoon,
And can, as old Maecenas said, knock off
And watch him shoot a hole or two at golf.
My motorcycle, boy! I’d like to see
Just wotinel this d. f. game may be.”