The First of Jan, it's New Year’s Day,
A lovely time for rest and play.
Maybe extended time in bed,
Nursing a touch of ‘tender head’.
A big roast lunch, a laze around,
Watching some old film you found.
But there’s a certain type of fool,
Who likes to go against these rules.
They think, “oh, what a good idea
To do the opposite of beer,
And do a tri at Arthur’s Seat
To prove that we are totes elite”.
One day I ran and had a pain,
It went but then came back again.
I wondered what on Earth to do?
My hopes and dreams were down the loo.
I called a local physio,
He treated me: behold and lo!
He fixed me up, this magic guy,
And I no longer run, I fly.