The Back Nine Has Always Been Too Kind

Horse around elsewhere, my little cabbages.
Don't spray it, they admonish in unison.

The island station tilted ominously into space.

You're cancelling my overtime?
I have mouths to feed, a sub-prime loan and fogging up my tail.

Then succeed the dogleg to a tight green, but don't miss the
Opportunity for horse fantasies and heat transfer just outside the cabin
Is but a burning house --

Who shouldst be spared burning?
Matter? The little island? Leading?
Allowed snagging is my shaky basis.

Leading is my sturdiest chassis.
What is a parsec, anyway?
Permissive.