An old homeless man wandered leisurely up to the green of the 18th hole where he sat himself down among his many coats.
He dug among the variety of old bags he was carrying and retrieved a handful of dried twigs and two iron rods, which he arranged to form into a holder. From this, he hung a pot of water suspended over the twigs.
Members gathering at the clubhouse windows watched as he got his campfire going.
The tranquillity of the scene was shattered when a man dashed from the clubhouse and, leaving no room for doubt, ordered the tramp off the course.
“Well, just who do you think you are?” asked the homeless man.
“I’m the club secretary,” shouted the member.
“Well, listen sonny,” the tramp retorted. “Let me give you some advice. That’s hardly the way to get new members.”
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