(instrumental opening)

I once knew a girl.
Or, should I say
saw on TV.
She married a guy
she thought was good.
Swede Mrs. Woods.

She liked him and knew that
he's the best golf player anywhere.
But one night he jumped in his car
and took off on a tear.

He hit fireplug.
Then hit a tree.
Not a par-three.

In middle of night.
She took a club.
She freed that shlub.

(ambulance sirens replace George Harrison's sitar)

They say Tiger's got him a mistress?
Don't know about that.
Some told me he didn't.
But in press, he's taking a bath!

And when I awoke
cops came to home.
Not left alone.

So, he's zipped his lips.
This isn't good
for Mr. Woods.

(instrumental close)