The hill from hell
That’s what we call it
Stubborn old thing
Leaves you suffering a fit
Of course there’s another way around
A mile further down
When it’s Sunday
& soaking
I’ll opt on it
Not quite murder

Another hill down by the English shop
That winds like the Monaco Grand Prix
Blemished, unforgiving as hell
Nope, it’s not for me
My friend & I thumbed up it one time
Alcohol-fuelled…
Embarrassing really
Driver was furious
But also rather curious
“What is it about this hill that has you all in a fluster!?”
I offered him a measly Euro
Told him it was the
Tallest in Munster

Really it’s not
But I’ll use poetic licence
Because I want it to stop
Feeling like
Everest’s evil twin
There’s that licence again
Get a story out of it
& I won’t feel like
I’m paying for my every sins

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