Remembering that today, I suddenly found myself singing snatches of a new song. When I got home, I worked out three verses. The tune is (undoubtedly) Lancashire.
Lead on, O kinky turtle, another trek has come;
henceforth midst clouds of skeeters our tents will be our home.
The rain and hail fall on us, the bears prowl round by night;
we’ve never lost a camper, but then again, we might.
Lead on, O kinky turtle, the path is rough and steep;
the snoring of my tent-mate means that I get no sleep.
Our diet is granola and freeze-dried mac and cheese;
We sit and tend our blisters and shiver in the breeze.
Lead on, O kinky turtle, it gives us pause to think
how days in the backcountry will surely make us stink.
We swear that if we make it, we ne’er again shall roam,
but we’ll start planning next year as soon as we get home.