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My sporting prowess is worse than pathetic
But yet, I always found a way
To participate in school sports day
Despite the fact it was impossible
A part of me always thought it probable
That one day, at some point in my life
The end would be worth all the strife
Across that line with speed I’d pedal
And win myself a real gold medal
A cheap alternative would have done,
After all, I was not born to run,
Or even jog, but I always had a dream
Of how the joyous crowd would scream
As I came hurtling in at first
And such joy would surely make me burst
(After all, there always was a chance
That overdone in the merry dance
My competitors would all drop down dead
And I might get an inch ahead)
But t’was not to be. For, alas
My school sports days are now all past
And the only medal I ever won
Was not achieved as it should have been done
And really, the absolute disgrace
That was the 1,200 metre race
Should go down in all the history books
Not those dedicating sport; but cons and crooks
At that start, it was a genuine blunder
And only after I realised the prize I could plunder
Did my ludicrous plan began to bubble
You see, the cause of all the trouble
The race I had signed my name below
I was sure was the 200 metre show
Perhaps, in the dazzling sports day sun
I did not see the other “one”
You’re surely wondering why I did not turn back
At first glance of that near 4,000ft track
But then, (I say, as shame starts to mount)
An evil plan had come about
An dark voice reasoned, “In a race so few,
There’ll surely be a medal for you.”
So I called their bluff and went to the line,
Sporting success was almost mine
Especially with a devious agreement
With the girl hellbent on the same assent
That we would finish the race together
Our names entwined in success forever
But in this tale there lies a moral
Entwined forever in my sorrow
For on the final victory stretch
This backstabbing, opportunist wretch
Put on a dazzling burst of speed
With which I could not possibly compete
I tried to urge my body on
But what little power there’d been was gone
My lungs seemed to fill up with fluff
My feet, knees and hips all yelled “get stuffed!”
And as the many spectators saw
The race was clearly not a draw
You must thinking, “What a waste!
There’s nothing wrong with second place.”
But now, I do confess to you
That in that race there were but two
And as I watched that girl fly past
I knew that I would finish last
And thus the beautiful shine of silver
Was a memory that I could never deliver
A race I “won” by pure default
And still came last. What a dolt.
Thus the sporting world and me did part
And I didn’t even have the heart
To publicise my second prize
For it was, in fact, a pack of lies
And it now leaves the saying for me to bolster
That cheaters never ever prospere
And from that day I try to keep
As ‘umble as Uriah Heep
(Whose last name I really mocked
As my poor legs, too worn and shocked,
To carry me a single pace
Beyond the fateful finishing place
Did thus give up, and then gave out,
And for a while I lay about
Until I had recovered enough
To roll into the undergrowth)
When it comes to sporting endeavours
That world I’ve sworn to shun forever
The medal was shoved into a drawer
And will be left there evermore.
But yet, I always found a way
To participate in school sports day
Despite the fact it was impossible
A part of me always thought it probable
That one day, at some point in my life
The end would be worth all the strife
Across that line with speed I’d pedal
And win myself a real gold medal
A cheap alternative would have done,
After all, I was not born to run,
Or even jog, but I always had a dream
Of how the joyous crowd would scream
As I came hurtling in at first
And such joy would surely make me burst
(After all, there always was a chance
That overdone in the merry dance
My competitors would all drop down dead
And I might get an inch ahead)
But t’was not to be. For, alas
My school sports days are now all past
And the only medal I ever won
Was not achieved as it should have been done
And really, the absolute disgrace
That was the 1,200 metre race
Should go down in all the history books
Not those dedicating sport; but cons and crooks
At that start, it was a genuine blunder
And only after I realised the prize I could plunder
Did my ludicrous plan began to bubble
You see, the cause of all the trouble
The race I had signed my name below
I was sure was the 200 metre show
Perhaps, in the dazzling sports day sun
I did not see the other “one”
You’re surely wondering why I did not turn back
At first glance of that near 4,000ft track
But then, (I say, as shame starts to mount)
An evil plan had come about
An dark voice reasoned, “In a race so few,
There’ll surely be a medal for you.”
So I called their bluff and went to the line,
Sporting success was almost mine
Especially with a devious agreement
With the girl hellbent on the same assent
That we would finish the race together
Our names entwined in success forever
But in this tale there lies a moral
Entwined forever in my sorrow
For on the final victory stretch
This backstabbing, opportunist wretch
Put on a dazzling burst of speed
With which I could not possibly compete
I tried to urge my body on
But what little power there’d been was gone
My lungs seemed to fill up with fluff
My feet, knees and hips all yelled “get stuffed!”
And as the many spectators saw
The race was clearly not a draw
You must thinking, “What a waste!
There’s nothing wrong with second place.”
But now, I do confess to you
That in that race there were but two
And as I watched that girl fly past
I knew that I would finish last
And thus the beautiful shine of silver
Was a memory that I could never deliver
A race I “won” by pure default
And still came last. What a dolt.
Thus the sporting world and me did part
And I didn’t even have the heart
To publicise my second prize
For it was, in fact, a pack of lies
And it now leaves the saying for me to bolster
That cheaters never ever prospere
And from that day I try to keep
As ‘umble as Uriah Heep
(Whose last name I really mocked
As my poor legs, too worn and shocked,
To carry me a single pace
Beyond the fateful finishing place
Did thus give up, and then gave out,
And for a while I lay about
Until I had recovered enough
To roll into the undergrowth)
When it comes to sporting endeavours
That world I’ve sworn to shun forever
The medal was shoved into a drawer
And will be left there evermore.
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