Rockin' Golf Grind

Lyrics

For years at Ellingson, there’s one man at the top, Keeping heat on in winter, making summertime cold drop. It’s Monty—the legend, the boss of the crew, And when somebody asks, “Monty, how’s it going with you?” He says, “Oh, it’s like a Monday!” Could be Friday afternoon—it’s still like a Monday! Emails, texts, phones ringing all day, “Monty! Fix my problem!” Monty! Monty! MON-TAY! And he’d look at the crew and occasionally say, “I’m one bad day from walking away!” Well, Monty, congratulations— THAT DAY IS TODAY! He loved all his workers, every woman, every man, But we all know Andy was number one in the plan. “Oh no, I love everybody!” Monty would say— Yeah, bullshit, Monty… Andy all the way! Now trade in that phone for a driver and balls, No emergency service, no after-hours calls. He’ll be golfing all morning, golfing all day, Hitting balls off the fairway—and the bunker rake! Looking for birdies, some pars, having fun, Maybe someday the old bastard gets a hole-in-one! Crank up the rock ’n’ roll, let the whole clubhouse know, Monty’s blasting rock ’n’ roll wherever he goes! And check out that cap that he wears every day, ’Cause the hair underneath sorta wandered away. But back in the day, Monty’s hair had some flow, Down to his shoulders like a damn rock show! Maybe retirement reverses the stress and despair, And by next Christmas—BOOM! Shoulder-length hair! He’ll rip off that cap, let the follicles fly, Looking twenty-five again—or at least he can try! No on-call weekends, no texts coming through, No “Monty, this broke!” or “What should I do?!” No emails at midnight, no phone in his hand, Just golf, rock ’n’ roll, and working on that tan. So raise up a glass to the leader we know, Who survived all the bullshit and still ran the show. You taught ’em, you led ’em, you got the job done— Now hit those damn golf balls… AND MONTY—HAVE SOME FUN!