Robin Williams - Golf lyrics

If you want a linguistic adventure, go drinking with a Scotsman. 'Cause ya can't f**ing understand him before. You land in Scotland and they're going, "[?] Oh, yeah. Sure. Oh, f** sure, eh! Sure, you dumb f**ing ba*tard. You realize how..." You realize how drunk they get, they could wear a skirt and not care! And only they could invent a sport like golf. "Here's my idea for a f**ing sport: I knock a ball in a gopher hole." "Oh, you mean like pool?" "f** off pool." "Not with a straight stick, with a little f**ed up stick. I whack a ball, it goes in a gopher hole." "Oh, you mean like croquet? "f** croquet! I'll put the hole hundreds of yards away. Oh, f** of, yeah! Big fun! Ah yeah, that's great!" "Oh, like a bowling thing? "f** no! Not straight. I'll put sh** in the way. Like trees and bushes and high gra**, so you can lose you f**ing ball. And go whacking away with a f**ing tire iron. Whacking away, and each time you miss you feel like you're going to have a stroke. f**! That's what we'll call it: a stroke. 'Cause each time you miss you feel like you're gonna f**ing die. Oh, this is the greatest part, oh, and here's the better part. f**, this is brilliant! Right near the end, I'll put a little flat piece with a little flag to give you f**ing hope. But then I'll put a pool and a sandbox to f** with your ball again. Ay, you'll be there cracking your a**, jerking away in the sand." "And you do this one time? "f** no! 18 f**ing times!" That's my idea of a sport! The manly sport of golf, where you can dress like a pimp and no one will care. Where you could wear clothes where even a blind gay man would go: "Oh, dear Christ! Those are loud. This is no carnival. What a f** are you on?" Even the alligator's going: "a**hole!" It's such an exciting athletic sport, too: whack the ball, get in the cart, whack the ball, get in the cart. And the commentary's electrifying. Just aside of curling for really getting me going. "We're on the third green now. Could people be quieter, I'd like to hear the gra** grow." I want the guy who does Mexican soccer to do golf one time. "The ball is rolling, the ball is going to the... Hole!" Just to see all those Washington motherf**ers going, "Oh, dear Christ! My God, they're not gardening, they're playing now, oh, sh**!" What the hell we gonna do?" Because that was their last domain of dominance. It was their area. They were the king, up until Tiger! Yes! Son of a black man and a Thai woman; not even a German geneticist could've thought than one up! Black athletic ability, Buddhist concentration; ji-TOY. Crouching putter. And then he goes to the British Open, and he plays at St. Andrews, where they f**ing invented the sport. And after the 4th round, he's 18 under par, and there's only 18 f**ing holes. And all the old men going, "Oh, my God, we're doomed! How did he learn to play? We wouldn't have let him join." And they start having nightmares of golf carts going: [BASS] Yo, yo, yo, I'm playing through Whether you're gentile or a Jew Purple Beats, motherf**er!