In Honor of Al Gore and Carts for Clunkers: A Poem

Earnie "Tiger" Lazarus poem: Enscribed on the Statue of Nicklaus at the Bay Harbor Golf and Country Club

Not like the brazen driver of Greek fame,

With conquering wedge shots astride from green to green;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset links shall stand

A mighty golfer with a mashie, whose swing

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Putters.

From her over-hand grip

Glows world-wide TV rights; her mild eyes command

The curved grass that twin bunkers frame.

"Keep, ancient game, your storied links!" cries she

With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to ride in golf carts,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the cartless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my charging station beside the golden door!"