When a Cyclist’s Chamois Freezes
When I was green and very young
I would just stick out my tongue.
I’d dare the world, “come get me”.
“I can do that! Come on and bet me!”
I could take a licking and keep on ticking.
But my butt the world would soon be kicking.
I’d ride my bike in the cold or in a roaring heat.
I ignored advice and laughed at all fear and defeat!
No one could tell me where I could go.
If I choose I’ll even ride in the snow.
I wore wool shorts with a chamois-seat made of leather.
I’d prove myself as being bold in any kind of weather.
I made do with clothes that resembled a pile of rags.
For the cold I made shoe-covers out of old bread bags.
I’d ignore naysayers, put on layers, and a scarf around my neck.
As I arrived at my destination, I resembled a frozen wreck.
I froze my nose, almost lost my toes, other parts were numb.
I may have gained a reputation for sometimes being dumb.
Of coarse I’m so much wiser now. I seldom make a mistake.
I avoid extreme cold weather when my small parts are at stake.
Nevertheless I guess you can guess, I still can be the fool.
I must confess, I can still under-dress, and freeze my little tool.
When you go out, without a doubt, adequately cover your derriere.
But it’s the front that takes the brunt when flying into that frozen air.
I start thinking what could I have been I thinking?
“It’s” way too cold and everything is shrinking.
It’s gone beyond discomfort. It’s now becoming an emergency.
Now things are so small are they there at all, and what if I had to pee?
I once had a rig and I thought was quite big
But now it’s not even two berries and a twig.
I arrive back at home with teeth all a-chatter.
I’ve really come to know that small things matter.
I almost broke an ear and my nose as I was tearing off my clothes
I vowed to some parts, to cold, I’d never again over-expose.
As fast as I could I jumped in a hot bath.
But even now I would feel the cold’s wrath.
The water was so painful. I not only yelled. I cried.
If this were truly a perfect body, my parts could retract inside.
I felt like my brittle little hi-diddle diddle
Had been scalded by a fiery hot, scalding griddle.
Winter’s flus and viruses cause many miseries and sneezes.
But it’s certainly no small matter, when a cyclist’s chamois freezes.
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