Friday, 16 November 2012

An Ode to Bramhall parkrun, by Richard Hall

A delightful promise of a perfect setting?
Of course many descend from miles around
Woods and hills and grand architecture?
Or is there something else which can be found?

Always a steep start gets the pulse racing
Soon a magnificent Tudor House facing
But is anyone able to admire the view
Only a very fit and chosen few

A field where the Tudors practised their bow
Those taking it easy set off and go
Don’t cut that corner you’ve made unsightly mud
Rob would fire an arrow if he could

The Lake is an art for the leaders
Scatter the geese and sometimes their feeders
Gathering up the mess on their shoes
This is where those bringing up the rear don’t lose

You love it or hate it, marmite?
No the woods, up and down, and the fight
Win the left track or you haven’t got the knack
Enjoy being too far to hear Nick on the mike

Slow down it’s slippy on the bridge
In summer, a bite from the odd midge
A half way shout is a luxury for parkrun
But only if your time is under twenty one

It’s not the trees or well laid paths that count
It’s not even the heron or the jumping trout
It’s the people with a focus and a weekend belonging
Its a good enough subject to compose a song in

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