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.

~Micky Dee~

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