Like a Rind-a-Day Fryboy

AnyoneForTee co-publisher Martin Moodie has long suffered a seemingly hopeless case of the yips, to which traditional 'cures' brought no relief. Something a little rasher was needed to save his golfing bacon. While cooking his Sunday morning fry-up, he suddenly realised he was holding the answer in his hand: the simple kitchen slice he was using to flip his eggs and bacon! Jubilant, he burst into song as he dragged his bemused five year old son into the garden to test his theory.

[For full details of "The Moodie Method of Putting Eggshellence" click here.]

Original music and lyrics by Larry Weiss

[If you would like musical accompaniment, please click here]
	I've been puttin' those greens so long, Doing it all so wrong. I know every break in these quirky old greens of Yippsville, Where four putts is the name of my game, And yippers get washed away like the snow and the rain. There's been a load of agonisin', Two putts ain’t on my horizon, But I'm gonna be there where the putts are droppin' for me... Like a rind-a-day fryboy, Burning up that there course with no four putting now on show. Like a rind a day fryboy, Getting cards and letters from yippers I don't even know, And offers comin' over the phone. Well, I really can’t take the strain, And my smile don’t hide the pain, ’Cos you're down when you're yippin' the putts, they’re goin' the wrong way. And I dream of the things that I'll do, With a rasher eaten and just one putt since I cracked the clue. There's been a load of agonisin', Two putts ain’t on my horizon, But I'm gonna be there where the putts are droppin' for me... Like a rind-a-day fryboy, Burning up that there course with no four putting now on show. Like a rind a day fryboy, Getting cards and letters from yippers I don't even know, And offers comin' over the phone. Like a rind-a-day fryboy, Burning up that there course with no four putting now on show. Like a rind a day fryboy, Getting cards and letters from yippers I don't even know, And offers comin' over the phone.