(An adaptation of a popular TV show theme song,
describing
the travels of Clan Riffster, Stray Goose, Kleetus and his
daughter, Purty-gurly.)
Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale,
A tale of a fateful trip
That started at an RV park
Aboard four tiny ships.
The group had a mix of paddling skills,
From pro to not so well.
Four paddlers set sail that day
For eight hours of pure hell, for eight hours of pure hell.
The water started getting rough,
The plastic boats were tossed,
If not for the batteries in our GPS
Us idiots would be lost, us idiots would be lost.
So this is the tale of the hapless few,
whose trip took many a mile,
If you follow in their paddle strokes,
Expect to earn your smiles.
The cachers who explored this creek,
Had done their very best,
To make sure you'd be miserable,
During this torturous quest.
No phone, no snacks, no skeeter spray,
Not a single luxury,
Like most of my ill conceived journeys,
As primitive as can be.
So head down stream at least one time,
You'll end up sore and weak,
Like four decrepit paddlers,
Down on The Econ Creek.