Idioma Origen:
Listen to the tale of a stalwart male
Who lost his well known Nanny
Donald was his name and golf was the game
That made him grey as his Granny
He practised much but his style was such
That his handicap stayed at thirty
All the words he used when the ball he bruised
Were nothing else than dirty.
In the locker room every night
He?d sing of his awful plight
Oh! The dirty little pill went rolling down the hill
And rolled right into a bunker
From there to the green I took thirteen
And there by gosh I sunk ?er.
I get no fun in the air and sun
But down in the traps I labour
I sweat and weep where the sand is deep
Till I want to murder my neighbour.
(Spoken)
(thwack!) Oh! Baby, look at that drive. Wheee!
Now whoa, whoa. Whoa you? (out of bounds)
Alright, caddy, give me another ball.
There was one great day that came his way
His score he was sure to diminish
Never had such form, then up came a storm
He was never able to finish
He had a slice that was far from nice
From him it never parted
Once a year that shot, believe it or not
Came right back where it started.
Do you wonder that he groans
And sighs and wails and moans.
Oh! The dirty little pill went rolling down the hill
And rolled right into the water
And the reason it would seem, I lifted my beam
When I know I shouldn?t oughter.
Then I hit a shot that I liked a lot
But it sailed right into the marshes
And I wished right then, like a lot of other men
That I had worn my galoshes.
(spoken)
Hey, Donald, how many shots did you take over in that rock pile?
Let me see, one two three, er six I believe
Oh! You dirty so-and-so. I counted twelve time I heard your club hit something
Well, er, the other six were echoes. (hee hee)
Now Donald the Dub joined the country club
And found a fellow duffer
Just as bad as he, so with shouts of glee
They started out to suffer.
They played nine holes, and the poor little moles
Were never scared so badly
For the divots flew, and the cuss words too
And the birds and the bees left gladly
As the end of the day drew nigh
Came a song that was sung with a sigh
Oh! The dirty little pill went rolling down the hill
And rolled right into the club house
When I got there with sand in my hair
They changed it?s name to the Dub house.
I?ve wrecked more ground than Columbus found
And the guy that I am after
Is the crazy scot who invented this plot,
That?s robbed all the world of laughter
Now Donald the Dub broke club after club
As he told the world goodbye
For he suffered every hour when his game went sour
Even as you and I.
Idioma Destino:
Listen to the tale of a stalwart male
Who lost his well known Nanny
Donald was his name and golf was the game
That made him grey as his Granny
He practised much but his style was such
That his handicap stayed at thirty
All the words he used when the ball he bruised
Were nothing else than dirty.
In the locker room every night
He?d sing of his awful plight
Oh! The dirty little pill went rolling down the hill
And rolled right into a bunker
From there to the green I took thirteen
And there by gosh I sunk ?er.
I get no fun in the air and sun
But down in the traps I labour
I sweat and weep where the sand is deep
Till I want to murder my neighbour.
(Spoken)
(thwack!) Oh! Baby, look at that drive. Wheee!
Now whoa, whoa. Whoa you? (out of bounds)
Alright, caddy, give me another ball.
There was one great day that came his way
His score he was sure to diminish
Never had such form, then up came a storm
He was never able to finish
He had a slice that was far from nice
From him it never parted
Once a year that shot, believe it or not
Came right back where it started.
Do you wonder that he groans
And sighs and wails and moans.
Oh! The dirty little pill went rolling down the hill
And rolled right into the water
And the reason it would seem, I lifted my beam
When I know I shouldn?t oughter.
Then I hit a shot that I liked a lot
But it sailed right into the marshes
And I wished right then, like a lot of other men
That I had worn my galoshes.
(spoken)
Hey, Donald, how many shots did you take over in that rock pile?
Let me see, one two three, er six I believe
Oh! You dirty so-and-so. I counted twelve time I heard your club hit something
Well, er, the other six were echoes. (hee hee)
Now Donald the Dub joined the country club
And found a fellow duffer
Just as bad as he, so with shouts of glee
They started out to suffer.
They played nine holes, and the poor little moles
Were never scared so badly
For the divots flew, and the cuss words too
And the birds and the bees left gladly
As the end of the day drew nigh
Came a song that was sung with a sigh
Oh! The dirty little pill went rolling down the hill
And rolled right into the club house
When I got there with sand in my hair
They changed it?s name to the Dub house.
I?ve wrecked more ground than Columbus found
And the guy that I am after
Is the crazy scot who invented this plot,
That?s robbed all the world of laughter
Now Donald the Dub broke club after club
As he told the world goodbye
For he suffered every hour when his game went sour
Even as you and I.