Saturday, December 21, 2013

Away We Go Over Ice And Snow

                         Dogs resting, Iditarod checkpoint, Unalakleet Alaska March 1993

Through the blizzard I drove, pressing my luck
When I was passed by a 4X4 lifted pick up truck

Blowing by all traffic with reckless abandon 
With a big V8 it could really go

The driver seemed hellbent for armageddon
And either ignored the fact or just didn't know
That a lift kit means nothing when it's time to slow

A mile down the road I came upon the big yobbo
That 4X4, so high off the ground 
                                      Was now on the side of the road

Buried up to it's doors in drifiting snow

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