‘Tis the oh so simple things I guess
Things that no-one gets to see, no such necessity to impress
A fine fry followed by a run in the suddenly not so rare Irish sun
The fry is always the best part
But the run does leave a lot to be desired
If I don’t do it I might end up drunk, throw on an embarrassing stone, maybe two
So I’ll let the food settle, throw on a pair of trackies, running shoes
I really don’t mind, you can get to choose if you might like to join me as I jog aside the Courtmacsherry sea
What will it be?
A toned body, or I ending up a heap upon the all too enticing comfy couch, a slouch
So see you later, it’s off out with me

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