Born on the breeze beneath ancient spruce trees
Quick to make friends with the greatest of ease
A lover of disc and all those who play
And the strong piney smell of a calm summer day
Deep in the woods of the Promontory
Crushing sweet drives through the green canopy
Began the legend of our dear friend, Parky.
A minstrel by trade, fast friends we made
with the tall smiling Gnome, well-aged, and greyed
He believed sport and music would bring
People together to frolic and sing
And with a hop and a twirl, a dance of pure grace
a laugh and a smirk on his childish face
The Gnome launched a perfect forehand ace
A wizard’s apprentice, who dropped out of school
A dead-headed fish fan who found gizz & tool
Residing contently in his grandmother’s house
Spending too much time cooking homemade sauce
The old Gnome felt he had a part yet to play
In bringing together the world, that we may
find ourselves as one, in a new brighter day
But all was not harmony
throughout the Promontory
A Man in Shadow, entered the story
Riding upon his Mean Machine
Mowing down the woods and greens
Destroying all that was good and pure
Perhaps a nightmare, he was not sure
Parky vowed to be the cure
