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.