Twas the night before
Was the vision of a 4-peat and the teams left behind
It began with the Cabelleros and their Mexican “charms”,
Dying in a firefight with the Young Guns unharmed.
Then it was on to the beef, who we led to their slaughter,
With the Walrus even having time to knock-up Chuck’s daughter.
Then on came the Clydesdales at
Where they hoped to achieve a shot at redemption.
We clawed and we fought a dirty old scrum,
A match made in heaven with victory for one.
It came down to 18, a devil of a match,
And the Clydesdales had hopes of the hats they would snatch.
But the “THUNDER OF GUNS” sounded through the trees,
And the horseees!!! dropped their canes, and fell to their knees.
And as they lay on the ground, their hearts ripped from their chest,
We knelt down beside them and whispered…”Now you know who’s the best”!
24 days till the summit begins...
1 comment:
I must give credit where credit is due. A great poem!
Now we'll see if you are a prophet.
Go Caballeros!
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