The Old Men of the Mountain
'Twas in the bleak midwinter-time
Deep in the night, around ten.
When Peter's thoughts first turned to June
And visions of the Mountain.
He'd run it once, he'd run it twice
He'd run it near one-score.
But never in those years of toil
Had the Prize been his before.
His chance, he knew, was with a team,
And thus he'd have to get a mate
And more, both swift and local, too,
For it to be legitimate.
He placed a call to our man Bob
(that's Teschek), the director;
"How 'bout 'Team Gloucester'?" -- Bob just laughed,
But Pete knows how to hector.
And Teschek soon had had his fill
Of unrelenting grief
"You've got your team enough already
Just give me some relief!"
And now he's at the starting line,
Gut-checking through his roster;
They'd long since done their 'Doctors Run'
'Twas show-time for Team Gloucester.
"You're in the best shape of your life,
What was the best time you ran?"
"Who knows? Just point me and I go,"
Replied the bold Matt Curran.
"The day dawns clear, the portent good,
To triumph may God will us --
I've hardly seen a finer day,"
Said brave-heart Captain Gillis.
"Me boys, the time at last has come,
Run like there's no tomorrow."
Those steely eyes were windows to
The tough mind of Asaro.
"Should any flag the least amount,
We'll all meet our Valhalla."
He knew the Mountain's wicked ways,
Did wiley old Vadala.
"Aye, and should the least of us
fall weak, there's none can save us.
The fifth man's the important one,"
You hear that, Mister Davis?"
"There's Just One Hill!" Teschek did cry,
And with that they were off.
The Mountain would discriminate
The strong minds from the soft.
A final whisper left the lips
"Now show us what you've got, son,"
To no one in particular;
It was the grizzled Watson.
A figure neared the summit like
A flounder from the harbor
All clad in blue, and codfish too,
Emerged the wobbly Barbour.
Then Curran came, his visage racked
With Washington's deep hurt
But here's to bet there's nothing yet
Can make Matt wear a shirt.
Asaro, Gillis, Davis, then
Vadala and old Peter.
"We've met the Mountain one more time,
And this time, boys, we beat her!"
Two hours later, in the tent,
To all and none's surprises,
The Gloucester troops let out three whoops
Not one but TWO fine prizes!
'Tis history now, the legends flow
Like water from a fountain.
Let word go forth: on Cape Ann there
Are men to match The Mountain.
