(I was moved to write this the day Payne left us)
At Pinehurst he drew from the depths of his heart
The course was his canvas, his game was his art
In four days of grinding, he alone stood the test
and rose to the rank of the best of the best
No, it wasn't his knickers that defined his great game
And it wasn't his antics that gave him his fame
But a dogged pursuance and talent so fine
A master of irons and reading his line
A goodwill ambassador everyday of the week
A man who possessed that which so many seek
To be taken so soon for the front nine of life
We mourn with his family, his children and wife
We'll miss you Payne Stewart, you've given so much
We'll miss your impressions, your God given touch
We'll remember the Sundays, the crowds as they roared
And know you're on top of God's leader board....
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