How much about me do you know?
Nearly seven hundred years ago,
Give or take some years or so,
I started off as a wooden ball,

My earliest form was of leather,
A round pouch hand stitched together,
Full of chicken or goose feather,
For three centuries, that was the ball.

Patterson invented the guttie,
Made from sap of sapodilla tree,
Heated, nicked to be as round could be,
The 'brambles' was the preferred ball.

Batala made many a rimple,
Then my surface, they did dimple,
Improving my flight was so simple,
I was a quicker spinning ball.

From liquid centres to solid core,
I am nothing like I was before,
Each decade brings improvements more,
But always, I will be a golf ball.