magot threw the gauntlet down, it landed at our feet;
A wager on who’ll win, he said – ohhhh, how neat!
We’re beer-drinking bimbos, tough as nails, way too strong,
For a lone male wolf! Noooooo, he can’t keep it up that long!
And a voodoo doll we sculpted and held it to the fire,
His feet will burn, his body wilt, all his strength expire!
So off we set in the dawn’s early light, our whereabouts he couldn’t guess,
But he knew that we were cuming, cuming, cuming, yessssssssssssssss!
Alas, alas, the Wind kept surging fierce and hard,
Pushing, thrusting, forging, faster and faster, not giving a yard.
Full of testosterone and manly vigor, we felt the Wind as on he flew,
On down the trail, ahead of Just Sue.
And victory slipped through Slippery’s fingers and Tic Tac lost her Ho, Ho, Ho,
Despite the flash, BOT was Bereft on Trail, and the tide ebbed on English Channel’s flow.
The girls lamented, “now we must do his bidding, our victory is not to be,”
And in her anguish, Just Sue cried, “I am not wearing a bikini!”
At the finish, with FC and Pocohomo, it was clear he hadn’t quit,
So the victory was sealed with a champagne shower of spit,
Yes, we are, along with every Seattle fagot,
Full of pride this day for our very own magot.
He’s more of a man than ever we thought,
A lesson in keeping it up he taught.
He can go longer and harder than ever we dreamed.
We stand vanquished, defeated, our asses sorely reamed.