St Andrews
Chariots of fire
Tiger Woods the walking wounded
Old golfers here retire
Freedom of the Town for Jack
For some it spelt despair
Doug Saunders Adam Scott
The Claret Jug not there
I came here first in ‘73
With Chris I walked the sands
And then the hotel for a meal
Young priests we were blessed hands
Then I came in ‘91
With Margaret by my side
Walked the town and walked the beach
Beside a gentle tide
That tide rose slowly but rose high
We made a life together
We knew the rain and sunny day
We walked through every weather
And now the Open comes again
And men seek death or glory
St Andrews is our meeting place
Here we tell our story
Brian Fahy
16 July 2022
Erris Poetry 