Four men, well along in years, had played golf as a foursome every Sunday morning, until one of them passed away. The other three asked the club pro if he could find them a compatible gentleman to fill out the foursome again. ``No problem,'' answered the pro.

A foursome is waiting at the mens tee when another foursome of ladies are hitting from the ladies tee. The ladies are taking their time and when finally the last one is ready to hit the ball she hacks it about 10 feet, goes over to it, hacks it another ten feet and looks up at the men waiting and says apologetically:

A rather good golf junkie who happens to be a priest is on the 18th hole and has about a 200 yard approach shot to the green. He drags out his 1-iron, and starts to swing at the ball. Suddenly, the clouds overhead let out a flash of lightning and a massive roll of thunder, shattering a tree some 3 hundred yards east, and the rain begins pouring down in a blinding sheet.

Two men are chatting at the 19th hole at their golf club.

First golfer: I say, did you hear about old Harrington-Smythe?
Second golfer: No. What happened?