Blondes make me quiver, I’m Tiger Woods;
My passion I can’t control.
It makes my wife weep, but I cannot keep
My balls out of the wrong hole.

Pro golfers shiver when Tiger Woods
Is the man they have to beat.
They usually choke and make awkward strokes,
Like I do with blondes I meet.

A lavish liver, I’m Tiger Woods;
I travel near and far:
New York to Melbourne, my shaft is well-worn,
But I still keep breaking par.

Over some rivers and into the woods,
A lot of long drives I’ve sprayed.
But now, woe is me, ‘cause into a tree
I’ve driven my Excalade.

I will deliver to Mrs. Woods
A confession of my sin.
If she can’t forgive it, she’ll take a new divot
Out of my unfaithful chin.

She’s a forgiver, she’s Mrs. Woods;
But so she won’t have a cow,
It is a sad fact my pre-nup contract
Makes her the boss starting now.