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Destination Duncannon Gather round ye young and grown, And listen to me bitch and moan. Tweny five days, on the run, Now its ceasing to be fun. Covered five hundred miles, Thought of it, makes me smile. But now my body is so worn, My socks they are all torn. My tarp belongs to the landfill, My sleeping bag leaks holofill. I need a shower real soon, I smell like a dead racoon. My clothes - they need a wash and spin, To be of any use again. My morale is now shot to hell, My spirit is way down as well. I walk with an unsmiling face, Gone is my former pace. Boy, I need a zero day, To fully recuperate. Three days mileage, sixty nine and some, Hello Duncannon, here I come. Anyway, thanks ye young and grown, For listening to me moan and groan. |
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