From 1897 a poem titled The Greenkeeper
He is coming, the lovely man.
The keeper of the links.
His cheeks are colored a sun-painted tan,
Tis whispered that he drinks.
O, pink as a rose
Is the blossom of his nose-
Six foot is his length
From his eyes to his toes.
What a pity it is that he drinks!
Kind of a humorous poem, but unfortunately probably quite true for many a greenkeeper back in the day.