They say you take nothing with you
when you leave this world behind,
but I'd like to take my golf clubs
if St. Peter doesn't mind.
There'll be Snead and Palmer
in that beautiful home up there.
And I imagine there'll be a golf course
with pretty greens somewhere.
And I know the fairways will
With the weather always clear
And I'll stand right up an d look around
And say, oh, buddy, I'm glad I'm here
I just wonder with a golden golf club
And the ball on a silver tee
Will my drives straighten out a bit
and not land behind those trees?
Will my tip shots be more accurate
I'm here to stay on the finest
I've given it a lot of thought.
when he misses an important putt
from a foot and a half away?
well, bless that ball, or I do declare
in a golfer's words up there.
There's several things that bother me
about playing the game up there.
Not one of my golfing buddies
will ever climb those golden stairs.
I'll have to play with strangers
who don't know how to lie.
And they won't pull those dirty tricks
that my buddies always try.
When they put me in the box
I hope and pray those clubs of mine
