🎶Augusta, where the azaleas bloom in pink and white,
Where Bobby Jones built something pure, where tradition shines bright.
But what was that on Amen Corner — was that Kevin Hart?
And Bert Kreischer in a polo, sweating through the start?
Oh Augusta, oh Augusta,
This ain't Barstool, it's hallowed ground.
Oh Augusta, oh Augusta,
ESPN has let you down.
Pat McAfee's on the broadcast, hollering and loud,
Jason Kelce's in the gallery, rowdy with the crowd.
The patrons in their folding chairs just shake their weary heads,
Whispering "This used to be the Masters — now it's YouTube instead."
Oh Augusta, oh Augusta,
This ain't Barstool, it's hallowed ground.
Oh Augusta, oh Augusta,
ESPN has let you down.
The LIV was called a circus, told to know its place,
But now the PGA's own Masters wears the circus face.
Pink hats and "Pimento" merch and influencer crews —
Clifford Roberts is spinning, and Tiger's got the blues.
We don't need dullards debasing what the legends held so dear,
The greatest stage in all of golf don't need a hype man here.
The birdies and the eagles and the roars down 18's lane —
That's the content, that's the broadcast, let the game speak its name.
Oh Augusta, oh Augusta,
Give us back our sacred ground.
Oh Augusta, oh Augusta,
Let the tournament — not the clowns — wear the crown. 🎶