Twas the gloom before Christmas and all through the hood
the scramblers were gathered though the weather was not good.
The shovel flag was planted at the AO with care
in hopes that the Q would eventually be there.
The PAX nestled snug in their running attire
while visions of coffee warmed them like fire
Hammer and Pik donned their bright Christmas socks,
Cowbell’s brains were a’dangling in his tiny shorts frocked
With puddles abound there arose such a splatter
We sprang from city hall like the rain didn’t matter
Away down Massena Pik flew like a flash
and along the route helped out by picking up trash
With bright yellow shoes on his feet down below,
Shooter’s pace was quite comfortable, easy and slow.
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
but miniature Steve with his eyes all a’blear.
With little young Cowbell so lively and quick
running beside aforementioned Waterpik.
More rapid than eagles Hammer then came,
and talking and shouting Wacker called them by name:
“Now, Shooter! now, Russo! now Hammer and Steve!
On, Cowbell! on, Waterpik! a 5k we’ll achieve!
To the top of the pier! And around the loop!
Now dash away guys, but watch out for dog poop!”
Now upon returning from our drizzle-soaked lark
we closed with an indian run round the park.
At COT Q spoke to those gathered round
inspiring words with a Christmasy sound.
Then away we all flew, coffeteria bound
but Liz’s was closed, and Waffle House we found
doesn’t close for Christmas or Covid, to do so
would deprive us of Christmas Eve coffee with Russo.
Then as soon we sat to discuss things with candor
who should walk in but our buddy Zoolander.
And I heard him exclaim as I walked out the door
Merry Christmas to all and F3 ever more!
