We meet together once a week to have a gentle run.”

“That sounds really great” we said.  “OK – we’ll come – you’re on.”

A chap called Ray was laying it; we were meeting at St. John.
 

We were sure we’d have enjoyed it too – if we could only breathe!

What a lovely view from here, and look at that steep hill.

Still, we won’t have to go up there….oh heck – I think we will.

 Oh, a beautiful little stream
                       – it’ll be quite deep I bet.

You mean we have to go right through it?  But we’ll get our knickers wet.

After fifteen, hundred, thousand miles we arrived back at the car.

We were totally exhausted. Thought, “How unfit we are”.

 But we started running every week
                     – no longer filled with dread

‘Til hare-razor approached us.  She turned to us and said,

“Your running is improving and in stature you have grown,

Now all the other hashers think its time you laid your own.”

 Peter didn’t want to do it. 
                   “What us? But we’re so meek.”

She said, “You haven’t got a choice mate ‘cos you’re doing it next week!”

That’s when the night sweats began – we simply could not sleep.

Overnight I was turned into a nervous quivering heap

 We had to plan the route ourselves,
                      get raffle prizes AND

We had to ask the farmer if we could run over his land.

What if the run was too short?  Or even worse – too long.

          And what if we actually lose someone? 
          God – I hope it’s Whinging Pom!!

 So be kind to your hares tonight. 
                     Be generous, be nice.

Last time we were virgins; now we’ve only done it twice.