Andrew Lang was born in Selkirk. He was the eldest of the eight children born to John Lang, the town clerk of Selkirk, and his wife Jane Plenderleath Sellar, who was the daughter of Patrick Sellar, factor to the first duke of Sutherland. On 17 April 1875 he married Leonora Blanche Alleyne, the youngest daughter of C. T. Alleyne of Clifton and Barbados.
He was educated at Selkirk grammar school, Loretto, and at the Edinburgh Academy, St Andrews University and at Balliol College, Oxford, where he took a first class in the final classical schools in 1868, becoming a fellow and subsequently honorary fellow of Merton College. As a journalist, poet, critic and historian, he soon made a reputation as one of the most able and versatile writers of the day.
He was also an avid golfer and fisherman, and he and Leonora traveled to France and Italy.
Off My Game By Andrew Lang
"I'm of my game," the golfer said,
And shook his locks in woe;
"My putter never lays me dead,
My drives will never go;
Howe'er I swing, howe'er I stand,
Results are still the same,
I'm in the burn, I'm in the sand -
I'm off my game!
"Oh, would that such mishaps might fall
On Laidlay or Macfie,
That they might toe or heel the ball,
And sclaff along like me!
Men hurry from me in the street,
And execrate my name,
Old partners shun me when we meet -
I'm off my game!
"Why is it that I play at all?
Let memory remind me
How once I smote upon my ball,
And bunkered it–BEHIND ME.
I mostly slice into the whins,
And my excuse is lame -
It cannot cover half my sins -
I'm off my game!
"I hate the sight of all my set,
I grow morose as Byron;
I never loved a brassey yet,
And now I hate an iron.
My cleek seems merely made to top,
My putting's wild or tame;
It's really time for me to stop -
I'm off my game!"
Andrew Lang died of angina pectoris at the Tor-na-Coille Hotel in Banchory, Aberdeenshire, survived by his wife. He was buried in the cathedral precincts at St Andrews.
Biography and Grave location source - Wikipedia.org
He was educated at Selkirk grammar school, Loretto, and at the Edinburgh Academy, St Andrews University and at Balliol College, Oxford, where he took a first class in the final classical schools in 1868, becoming a fellow and subsequently honorary fellow of Merton College. As a journalist, poet, critic and historian, he soon made a reputation as one of the most able and versatile writers of the day.
He was also an avid golfer and fisherman, and he and Leonora traveled to France and Italy.
Off My Game By Andrew Lang
"I'm of my game," the golfer said,
And shook his locks in woe;
"My putter never lays me dead,
My drives will never go;
Howe'er I swing, howe'er I stand,
Results are still the same,
I'm in the burn, I'm in the sand -
I'm off my game!
"Oh, would that such mishaps might fall
On Laidlay or Macfie,
That they might toe or heel the ball,
And sclaff along like me!
Men hurry from me in the street,
And execrate my name,
Old partners shun me when we meet -
I'm off my game!
"Why is it that I play at all?
Let memory remind me
How once I smote upon my ball,
And bunkered it–BEHIND ME.
I mostly slice into the whins,
And my excuse is lame -
It cannot cover half my sins -
I'm off my game!
"I hate the sight of all my set,
I grow morose as Byron;
I never loved a brassey yet,
And now I hate an iron.
My cleek seems merely made to top,
My putting's wild or tame;
It's really time for me to stop -
I'm off my game!"
Andrew Lang died of angina pectoris at the Tor-na-Coille Hotel in Banchory, Aberdeenshire, survived by his wife. He was buried in the cathedral precincts at St Andrews.
Biography and Grave location source - Wikipedia.org
Andrew Lang was born in Selkirk. He was the eldest of the eight children born to John Lang, the town clerk of Selkirk, and his wife Jane Plenderleath Sellar, who was the daughter of Patrick Sellar, factor to the first duke of Sutherland. On 17 April 1875 he married Leonora Blanche Alleyne, the youngest daughter of C. T. Alleyne of Clifton and Barbados.
He was educated at Selkirk grammar school, Loretto, and at the Edinburgh Academy, St Andrews University and at Balliol College, Oxford, where he took a first class in the final classical schools in 1868, becoming a fellow and subsequently honorary fellow of Merton College. As a journalist, poet, critic and historian, he soon made a reputation as one of the most able and versatile writers of the day.
He was also an avid golfer and fisherman, and he and Leonora traveled to France and Italy.
Off My Game By Andrew Lang
"I'm of my game," the golfer said,
And shook his locks in woe;
"My putter never lays me dead,
My drives will never go;
Howe'er I swing, howe'er I stand,
Results are still the same,
I'm in the burn, I'm in the sand -
I'm off my game!
"Oh, would that such mishaps might fall
On Laidlay or Macfie,
That they might toe or heel the ball,
And sclaff along like me!
Men hurry from me in the street,
And execrate my name,
Old partners shun me when we meet -
I'm off my game!
"Why is it that I play at all?
Let memory remind me
How once I smote upon my ball,
And bunkered it–BEHIND ME.
I mostly slice into the whins,
And my excuse is lame -
It cannot cover half my sins -
I'm off my game!
"I hate the sight of all my set,
I grow morose as Byron;
I never loved a brassey yet,
And now I hate an iron.
My cleek seems merely made to top,
My putting's wild or tame;
It's really time for me to stop -
I'm off my game!"
Andrew Lang died of angina pectoris at the Tor-na-Coille Hotel in Banchory, Aberdeenshire, survived by his wife. He was buried in the cathedral precincts at St Andrews.
Biography and Grave location source - Wikipedia.org
He was educated at Selkirk grammar school, Loretto, and at the Edinburgh Academy, St Andrews University and at Balliol College, Oxford, where he took a first class in the final classical schools in 1868, becoming a fellow and subsequently honorary fellow of Merton College. As a journalist, poet, critic and historian, he soon made a reputation as one of the most able and versatile writers of the day.
He was also an avid golfer and fisherman, and he and Leonora traveled to France and Italy.
Off My Game By Andrew Lang
"I'm of my game," the golfer said,
And shook his locks in woe;
"My putter never lays me dead,
My drives will never go;
Howe'er I swing, howe'er I stand,
Results are still the same,
I'm in the burn, I'm in the sand -
I'm off my game!
"Oh, would that such mishaps might fall
On Laidlay or Macfie,
That they might toe or heel the ball,
And sclaff along like me!
Men hurry from me in the street,
And execrate my name,
Old partners shun me when we meet -
I'm off my game!
"Why is it that I play at all?
Let memory remind me
How once I smote upon my ball,
And bunkered it–BEHIND ME.
I mostly slice into the whins,
And my excuse is lame -
It cannot cover half my sins -
I'm off my game!
"I hate the sight of all my set,
I grow morose as Byron;
I never loved a brassey yet,
And now I hate an iron.
My cleek seems merely made to top,
My putting's wild or tame;
It's really time for me to stop -
I'm off my game!"
Andrew Lang died of angina pectoris at the Tor-na-Coille Hotel in Banchory, Aberdeenshire, survived by his wife. He was buried in the cathedral precincts at St Andrews.
Biography and Grave location source - Wikipedia.org
