A Poem
There's grease on all my t-shirts All over my shorts and socks They seem to be ever semi-damp And smell bad as crap in crocks No one ever told me Rowing could be this obscene I'm a semi-dirty rower Trying to stay semi-clean My Levis never fit me They're tight around the thighs I have to buy them baggy And take them in a size Still my t-shirts fit quite loosely You don't want too much bulk I'm a semi-skinny rower Trying to be a semi-hulk I have a little money Very little to be sure My lack of it's a cancer That'll never find a cure I spend it all on food and rent And an occasional beer or coke Once I was almost semi-rich But am staying semi-broke It makes life kinda interesting When you're dirty, poor, and lose One can only despair and wonder At the kind of life you choose Still the victory you want real bad Erases all the pain I'm just a half-crazed rower Trying to stay half-sane