Next verse please

Discussion in 'General Fitness' started by Surf McBrowse, Feb 21, 2004.

  1. A runner wakes without alarm The sky is dark as morning comes A coffee downed, the shoes are laced
    And out the door, a pace near race ....

    Surf
     
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  2. Gone Tag .

    Gone Tag . Guest

    On Sat, 21 Feb 2004 03:10:26 -0600, "Surf McBrowse" <[email protected]>
    wrote:

    >A runner wakes without alarm The sky is dark as morning comes A coffee downed, the shoes are laced
    >And out the door, a pace near race ....

    The rain upon his face it stings "I'd better return for my Gore-Tex things" So out the door he
    tumbles once more And runs 'cross the path of an ageing whore

    "Young runner, you look so fine and trim For 50 bucks, wanna see what lies within?" "Fcuk off, old
    whore, for can't you see I'm within three seconds of this routes pb"

    So on he speeds along trail, over brook, Never pauses from his lofty mission to look At the world
    and the pathos either side of him He simply glances at his Times GPS with a grin

    The numbers look good, his hr is just right He feel like an bloody powerful antelope in flight 'Til
    without warning a small pothole appears And he tumbles to the ground His eyes filled with tears

    Oh woe is me How can this be For a runner I was born. And to be humbled By a hole Made by a mole
    Seems rather droll

    the runner runs no more but crawls along the floor like a snake dying
     
  3. > >A runner wakes without alarm The sky is dark as morning comes A coffee downed, the shoes are
    > >laced And out the door, a pace near race ....
    >
    > The rain upon his face it stings "I'd better return for my Gore-Tex things" So out the door he
    > tumbles once more And runs 'cross the path of an ageing whore
    >
    > "Young runner, you look so fine and trim For 50 bucks, wanna see what lies within?" "Fcuk off, old
    > whore, for can't you see I'm within three seconds of this routes pb"
    >
    > So on he speeds along trail, over brook, Never pauses from his lofty mission to look At the world
    > and the pathos either side of him He simply glances at his Times GPS with a grin
    >
    > The numbers look good, his hr is just right He feel like an bloody powerful antelope in
    > flight 'Til without warning a small pothole appears And he tumbles to the ground His eyes
    > filled with tears
    >
    > Oh woe is me How can this be For a runner I was born. And to be humbled By a hole Made by a mole
    > Seems rather droll
    >
    > the runner runs no more but crawls along the floor like a snake dying
    >

    Damn and blast, a pox on ye hole A thousand curses upon the mole His anger quelled he returns to
    sorrow This run is over at least till morrow

    But wait, what's this? Determination rings! Up to his feet quickly springs I can still make my best
    PB And so down the hill he strides with glee

    This time he thinks all out he'll go The trees flash by each side the hill Quickly down and past the
    mill A covered bridge in the distance still

    Through the bridge and ready to fly "Do or do not, there is no try" Up the trail a runner in sight
    Her legs are long, her bottom tight ...
     
  4. And if Miss Anne, while in her truck, does see that jogging silly shmuck, the rest of the day will
    then be spent, cleaning the dna from the trucks front vent.
     
  5. Gone Tag .

    Gone Tag . Guest

    On Sat, 21 Feb 2004 12:39:18 -0500 (EST), [email protected] (Miss
    Anne Thrope) wrote:

    >And if Miss Anne, while in her truck, does see that jogging silly shmuck, the rest of the day will
    >then be spent, cleaning the dna from the trucks front vent.

    Miss Anne, I would have to say, Your trolling's been quite good today. Your crown is safe, I have no
    doubt, No other troll's in with a shout.
     
  6. Gone Tag .

    Gone Tag . Guest

    On Sat, 21 Feb 2004 10:23:31 -0600, "Surf McBrowse" <[email protected]>
    wrote:

    >
    >> >A runner wakes without alarm The sky is dark as morning comes A coffee downed, the shoes are
    >> >laced And out the door, a pace near race ....
    >>
    >> The rain upon his face it stings "I'd better return for my Gore-Tex things" So out the door he
    >> tumbles once more And runs 'cross the path of an ageing whore
    >>
    >> "Young runner, you look so fine and trim For 50 bucks, wanna see what lies within?" "Fcuk off,
    >> old whore, for can't you see I'm within three seconds of this routes pb"
    >>
    >> So on he speeds along trail, over brook, Never pauses from his lofty mission to look At the world
    >> and the pathos either side of him He simply glances at his Times GPS with a grin
    >>
    >> The numbers look good, his hr is just right He feel like an bloody powerful antelope in
    >> flight 'Til without warning a small pothole appears And he tumbles to the ground His eyes
    >> filled with tears
    >>
    >> Oh woe is me How can this be For a runner I was born. And to be humbled By a hole Made by a mole
    >> Seems rather droll
    >>
    >> the runner runs no more but crawls along the floor like a snake dying
    >>
    >
    >Damn and blast, a pox on ye hole A thousand curses upon the mole His anger quelled he returns to
    >sorrow This run is over at least till morrow
    >
    >But wait, what's this? Determination rings! Up to his feet quickly springs I can still make my best
    >PB And so down the hill he strides with glee
    >
    >This time he thinks all out he'll go The trees flash by each side the hill Quickly down and past
    >the mill A covered bridge in the distance still
    >
    >Through the bridge and ready to fly "Do or do not, there is no try" Up the trail a runner in sight
    >Her legs are long, her bottom tight ...

    Wait! This doesn't feel quite right. How can I run, When between my thighs, My throbbing manhood
    waters my eyes?.

    That fallen nymph plucks at my heart, What this! Her legs! They drift apart? What should I do? Where
    should I stare? She lies, legs akimbo, ass in air.

    But I am made of sterner stuff, And need not the pleasure of a maidens muff. The ticking clock It
    calls me on. I'll tally no more till my battle is won.

    Sprint hard for the final 1k, Hr hitting one nine three. Is there any beast on earth, That's as
    powerful as me?

    Finish glides past on my left, Now my heart slows in my breast. Look down, One hour, twenty seven,
    eighteen, Yeah, Running really is obscene.
     
  7. Roses are red, My balls are blue, Smurf McBrowse sucks!

    "Surf McBrowse" <[email protected]> wrote in message
    news:<%[email protected]>...
    > > >A runner wakes without alarm The sky is dark as morning comes A coffee downed, the shoes are
    > > >laced And out the door, a pace near race ....
    > >
    > > The rain upon his face it stings "I'd better return for my Gore-Tex things" So out the door he
    > > tumbles once more And runs 'cross the path of an ageing whore
    > >
    > > "Young runner, you look so fine and trim For 50 bucks, wanna see what lies within?" "Fcuk off,
    > > old whore, for can't you see I'm within three seconds of this routes pb"
    > >
    > > So on he speeds along trail, over brook, Never pauses from his lofty mission to look At the
    > > world and the pathos either side of him He simply glances at his Times GPS with a grin
    > >
    > > The numbers look good, his hr is just right He feel like an bloody powerful antelope in
    > > flight 'Til without warning a small pothole appears And he tumbles to the ground His eyes
    > > filled with tears
    > >
    > > Oh woe is me How can this be For a runner I was born. And to be humbled By a hole Made by a mole
    > > Seems rather droll
    > >
    > > the runner runs no more but crawls along the floor like a snake dying
    > >
    >
    > Damn and blast, a pox on ye hole A thousand curses upon the mole His anger quelled he returns to
    > sorrow This run is over at least till morrow
    >
    > But wait, what's this? Determination rings! Up to his feet quickly springs I can still make my
    > best PB And so down the hill he strides with glee
    >
    > This time he thinks all out he'll go The trees flash by each side the hill Quickly down and past
    > the mill A covered bridge in the distance still
    >
    > Through the bridge and ready to fly "Do or do not, there is no try" Up the trail a runner in sight
    > Her legs are long, her bottom tight ...
     
  8. "Chris Hamilten" <[email protected]> wrote in message
    news:[email protected]...
    > Roses are red, My balls are blue, Smurf McBrowse sucks!
    >

    I do enjoy your witless posts But of all the trolls you suck the most We are not surprised your
    balls are blue Short fat mental patients are the last to screw You have worked hard at your
    craft But old ladies could kick your ass Too bad we can't just all be friends 'Tis not something
    Usenet lends
     
  9. > >> >A runner wakes without alarm The sky is dark as morning comes A coffee downed, the shoes are
    > >> >laced And out the door, a pace near race ....
    > >>
    > >> The rain upon his face it stings "I'd better return for my Gore-Tex things" So out the door he
    > >> tumbles once more And runs 'cross the path of an ageing whore
    > >>
    > >> "Young runner, you look so fine and trim For 50 bucks, wanna see what lies within?" "Fcuk off,
    > >> old whore, for can't you see I'm within three seconds of this routes pb"
    > >>
    > >> So on he speeds along trail, over brook, Never pauses from his lofty mission to look At the
    > >> world and the pathos either side of him He simply glances at his Times GPS with a grin
    > >>
    > >> The numbers look good, his hr is just right He feel like an bloody powerful antelope in flight
    > >> 'Til without warning a small pothole appears And he tumbles to the ground His eyes filled with
    > >> tears
    > >>
    > >> Oh woe is me How can this be For a runner I was born. And to be humbled By a hole Made by a
    > >> mole Seems rather droll
    > >>
    > >> the runner runs no more but crawls along the floor like a snake dying
    > >>
    > >
    > >Damn and blast, a pox on ye hole A thousand curses upon the mole His anger quelled he returns to
    > >sorrow This run is over at least till morrow
    > >
    > >But wait, what's this? Determination rings! Up to his feet quickly springs I can still make my
    > >best PB And so down the hill he strides with glee
    > >
    > >This time he thinks all out he'll go The trees flash by each side the hill Quickly down and past
    > >the mill A covered bridge in the distance still
    > >
    > >Through the bridge and ready to fly "Do or do not, there is no try" Up the trail a runner in
    > >sight Her legs are long, her bottom tight ...
    >
    > Wait! This doesn't feel quite right. How can I run, When between my thighs, My throbbing manhood
    > waters my eyes?.
    >
    > That fallen nymph plucks at my heart, What this! Her legs! They drift apart? What should I do?
    > Where should I stare? She lies, legs akimbo, ass in air.
    >
    > But I am made of sterner stuff, And need not the pleasure of a maidens muff. The ticking clock It
    > calls me on. I'll tally no more till my battle is won.
    >
    > Sprint hard for the final 1k, Hr hitting one nine three. Is there any beast on earth, That's as
    > powerful as me?
    >
    > Finish glides past on my left, Now my heart slows in my breast. Look down, One hour, twenty seven,
    > eighteen, Yeah, Running really is obscene.
    >

    Epilogue:

    Our valiant friend has finished the course With speed and grace, smooth not forced

    A vermin hole did break his stride He got back up with stronger pride

    The Syrens they did try to tempt But arse and breast are gone for lent

    Alas our vaunted running friend Is far too serious for normal men
     
  10. You've proved my point you insipid twit You're a boorish simple stupid git Your poem sucks, you
    cannot rhyme "Now go away before I taunt you a second time"
     
  11. Your penis is small. Your brain even tinyer. If I tried to ryhme it would you dumbass.

    "Surf McBrowse" <[email protected]> wrote in message
    news:<[email protected]>...
    > You've proved my point you insipid twit You're a boorish simple stupid git Your poem sucks, you
    > cannot rhyme "Now go away before I taunt you a second time"
     
  12. WhoLovesYa?

    WhoLovesYa? Guest

    [email protected] (Chris Hamilten) wrote in message news:<[email protected]>...

    WHO WAS IT, THREATENED THE PRESIDENT?

    WHO ADVOCATED AID TO TERRORISTS?

    YEP, our own BILL DAVIDSON, just one day after the 9-11 attack, while the victims were
    still burning.
    ___________________________________________________
    "we should bomb that pathetic excuse for a man too, or at least give his location to every terrorist
    group we can find, and let them take him out. Just what we need in the white house, a coked-up
    dopehead running the country".

    From: MrRobotTow ([email protected]) Subject: Re: The Only Thing Newsgroups:
    rec.music.makers.bagpipe Date: 2001-09-12 03:00:32 PST

    http://groups.google.com/groups?q=pathetic+pea-brain+mrrobottow&hl=en&lr=&ie=UTF-
    8&selm=20010912055959.21715.00001917%40mb-fi.aol.com&rnum=3
    ___________________________________________________

    YO! Homeland Security dudes: KEY PHRASES! BOMB "WHITE HOUSE" "TERRORIST GROUP"

    THERE'S YER ANTISOCIAL NUT CASE, RIGHT THERE! COULD BE another John Hinckley. Check him out!

    This US citizen publicly called for AID to TERRORISTS: IS HIS NAME ON YOUR LIST? Check him out!

    To long-suffering RMMB and REC.RUNNING contributors: YES, Bill Davidson, the source of thousands of
    lowlife postings under dozens of account names, is also "TheBillRodgers" and his clones. DO COPY
    this message; use it to REPLY anytime you have an urge to respond to our troll.

    Will Bill's own words amuse him as much as they amuse us? WILL THEY AMUSE OTHERS? Let's find out.
    Let's be sure BILL gets the attention he deserves and craves.

    COPY, PASTE, REPLY to our TROLL. IT'S THAT EASY
     
  13. TheBillRodgers wrote much better poetry than this crap. Where is that running idol?

    "Surf McBrowse" <[email protected]> wrote in message
    news:<[email protected].com>...
    > You've proved my point you insipid twit You're a boorish simple stupid git Your poem sucks, you
    > cannot rhyme "Now go away before I taunt you a second time"
     
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