Author = unknown
A Strongman's Poem
He wakes up early and trains all alone
He’s tossing a 25lb. breamar stone
He grunts and he groans and upon its release
The pain kicks in and he knows it won’t cease
He’s working on spins, when his knees beg to glide
But he wants to give that ol’ open stone a ride
He’s hurting in places that just don’t exist
Not a part of his body, pain and agony has missed
The weights for distance and the weight over bar
He never thought 15ft. could look so damn far
He huffs and he puffs and he gives his best pull
But the tank is near empty and it once was so full
He winds up the hammers with speed and finesse
But the distance they travel is becoming much less
Now his body breaks in places it used to bend
And he’s beginning to think that this could be the end
His knees and his hips, his shoulders and back
Now have thoughts of surrender at the point of attack
But he’s a real gamer and he’ll never say die
No matter how loud his muscles cry
So he picks the caber and gives it a toss
And every tendon and ligament lets him know whos boss
Then he limps off the field with his head held high
He’s done this for ages tho at times not sure why
But he’s not ready to hang up his kilt and his hose
Tho it’s bound to happen, when? God only knows
But life aint worth livin’ if he can’t compete
And he longs for the days when he couldn’t be beat
Yes! He aches in the morning and all thru the night
He aches on the left side, twice as much on the right
He’s aches when he’s throwing or just sitting still
but he just won’t accept he may be over the hill
A Strongman's Poem
He wakes up early and trains all alone
He’s tossing a 25lb. breamar stone
He grunts and he groans and upon its release
The pain kicks in and he knows it won’t cease
He’s working on spins, when his knees beg to glide
But he wants to give that ol’ open stone a ride
He’s hurting in places that just don’t exist
Not a part of his body, pain and agony has missed
The weights for distance and the weight over bar
He never thought 15ft. could look so damn far
He huffs and he puffs and he gives his best pull
But the tank is near empty and it once was so full
He winds up the hammers with speed and finesse
But the distance they travel is becoming much less
Now his body breaks in places it used to bend
And he’s beginning to think that this could be the end
His knees and his hips, his shoulders and back
Now have thoughts of surrender at the point of attack
But he’s a real gamer and he’ll never say die
No matter how loud his muscles cry
So he picks the caber and gives it a toss
And every tendon and ligament lets him know whos boss
Then he limps off the field with his head held high
He’s done this for ages tho at times not sure why
But he’s not ready to hang up his kilt and his hose
Tho it’s bound to happen, when? God only knows
But life aint worth livin’ if he can’t compete
And he longs for the days when he couldn’t be beat
Yes! He aches in the morning and all thru the night
He aches on the left side, twice as much on the right
He’s aches when he’s throwing or just sitting still
but he just won’t accept he may be over the hill
