An invisible fox stole my climbing boots

one night when I left them outside.

The shock was so great I looked and I looked

and I looked and I looked until I shooked

 

with shock it was so great. 

 

I'd had them seventeen years in all

climbed up Snowdon and walked the Ridgeway 

in summer heat, they were perfectly adapted to my feet

and then an invisible fox stole them for a bloody giggle.

 

I scaled the bank at the back of my garden

 

then whipped the arse off the bushes

and when shove came to pushes

I looked in my wardrobe again and again and again

just in case but no luck

 

there was no doubt a solution could never be found 

 

having checked every inch of ground.

It took some time to find a replacement pair

not exactly bargain basement

but also worn in by other feet of ancient time

 

and these i'll cherish until..... my body goes right over the hill.