I think I may have solved the problem and can give you the definitive answer....
A poor farmer was watching, with envy, a bunch of city folk playing golf. How he wished he could join them, but, alas, he was poor and such frivolity was not his to enjoy. Then suddenly, out of no where, it came to him.
"WaHoo!", he shouted. "I can join them!"
He rushed out to his tiller machine and removed some of its teeth. He had the smithy down the lane adapt them slightly. He then fixed them to some canes - ('he split the ends of the canes and, after stuffing the 'heads' in, he bound supple, leather laces, which he'd soaked over night, around the end to secure the tiller bits in. As the leather dried, it increased its grip on the shafts.
He got to play golf with the city folk the following few months. However, his clubs were absolutely cr*p and he quickly became a laughing stock. In a state of humiliation, he buried the damn things. "Ha!" he thought. "They'll cause a bit of a debate should they be dug up in a few years from now!"
The End. [emoji257]
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