The Hell Hole

WHAT daring genius first yclept thee Hell?

What high, poetic, awe-struck grand old Golfer,

Much more of a mythologist than scoffer!

Whoe’er he was, the name befits thee well.

“All hope abandon, ye who enter here,”

Is written awful o’er thy gloomy jaws,

A threat to all save Allan might give pause:

And frequent from within come tones of fear—

Dread sound of cleeks, which ever fall in vain,

And—for mere mortal patience is but scanty—

Shriekings thereafter, as of souls in pain,

Dire gnashings of the teeth, and horrid curses,

With which I need not decorate my verses,

Because, in fact, you’ll find them all in Dante.