A little more soaked, with each move of the foot,
the legs take the shoes for a walk down the brook.
New pasture, new path, new texture at last
beneath sole for the toes to explore
Banks edge, to field hedge
up squelch, and slop, and slip
and slime, as struggle try to climb,
though cannae find a grip.
So, backslide to brookside,
to branch grabbing heave and ho.
Shoulders tighten, senses heighten,
quickened steel and up we go.
It's a splat land, dirty river sand, muddy bath, trousers tore.
Shiv'rin, Mis'rin, long walk back, with flappy patch and bottom sore.