Grassy Ass and Cherry Poppins: A Love Story in Rhyme

There once was a hasher named Grassy,

Whose demeanor was churlish and sassy.

He came to Frisco

Asked to hare on the go

Said, “Let’s make this trail long and classy.”

And so on Cherry Poppins he’s callin’

To help send our hasher butts crawlin’.

By train toward Stern Grove

(or by car, if you drove)

Where there’s beer checks and booze (we’ll be fallin’).

The hare lies were truthful and honest

And they promised to run us the farthest.

Flat and short, they applied

Yet I’m certain they lied

Though I’d rather not play the alarmist.

With Camel Toe watching the clock

The hares sprinted on down the block,

And we followed in suit

As Crabs stopped to salute

A branch hitting him in the cock.

We ran with such vim and such vigor

On On with the promise of liquor

Tears of Seamen solved checks

Eagle muscles she’d flex

One could swear that the beer made her quicker.

Over hills we followed the pack

Towards Portola, could we be heading back?

Yet above us we heard

An encouraging word:

“There’s booze, we’re cutting you slack!”

Peppermint Schnapps and Sangria too,

Have a shot, have a drink, stay a few

The eagles were gone

As we Turkeys moved on

Down the trail and in search of some brew.

Yet a reservoir now slowed our progress

(No Shit helped, but now I digress)

As we searched high and low

Just Brent Fox lead the show

Near the beer which we all would possess.

Can’t Rush Anal and dear Tasty Bacon

In the kitchen they both had been makin’

Some pasta and bread

And some shots they’d been fed,

‘Twas the soberness those two had been fakin’.

But the beer, oh the beer! It was sour.

Shaft and Massive, they whined by the hour

“T’isn’t Jasper,” they cried.

“Damn you Hand Pump, you lied!”

And their faces were sad, dumb and dour.

We gave our Miss Facebook a down-down

For behavior that truly was frowned on

As she drank down her beer

Round the circle you’d hear

Of a hasher we truly relied on.

And the hash got a piece with good timing

As the RAs were done with their jibing.

Now get on with your time

And I’ll go along mine

Screw you all, I’m tired of rhyming.