Tiger, Tiger, burning bright
In the casinor of the night,
What wandering hand or flirting eye
Could frame thy pitiful symmetry?
Your self-flagellation on national TV,
Rehearsed, resounding, nauseating
Bile of how Buddha will forgive
What your wife and kids must live.
Your arrogance a tad under par,
a long iron whacked for a putt,
whilst the columnists babble pun
after pun, it will never be said and done.
A hole in one!
They’ll shout with a chuckle,
I bet he’s done that before
In the bed, the kitchen, the bathroom floor…
He’s lost in the rough!
With the European beauty,
The razor redundant
For the present incumbent.
A fine stroke indeed (but he is well practised)!
He’s scored a birdie (not for the first time, we’re told)!
That drive just missed the tree (the fire brigade can go save a life)!
He’s over clubbing (by orders of his publicist, the public… and his wife)!
But Tiger please remember,
Your apology was as ill-conceived
As your original misdemeanour,
For your exaggerated humility is equally flawed
Because you really,
believe we care?
Or was it merely to placate
Your sponsors, your pimps,
Gillette and Nike, who threatened your
Wallet, unless you spoke nicely.
Shame on you for your stage managed apology,
You really should have just shown some balls.