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'Twas
the Night Before Climbing 'Twas the night before climbing, when all round
the rock
Not a dirtbag was stirring, not even a sock.
The tricams were hung by the anchor with care,
In hopes that a belay slave soon would be there;
The craggers were nestled all snug on their pads
While visions of camelots ran in gear ads;
And girlfriend in her helmet, and I playing smart,
Had just boiled some tea for an early alpine start,
When out on the face there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the tent to see what was the matter.
Away to the first pitch I flew like a flash,
Tore open the rain fly, leapt over the cache.
The headlamp that lit up the new first ascent
Gave the luster of mid-day to my four season tent
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a portaledge, and a cragger with gear.....
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Fully bastardized poem available for perusal and/or
publication negotiation upon request.
All work is
copyrighted. Any reproduction without author permission is strictly
forbidden
and if you think even
trying is a good idea, think again.
Respecting copyright
laws is good karma.
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Martha@marthaperantoni.com for prices and permissions.
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