I live in a house that overlooks the coastal path
And when I am have finished my chores
I study peoples running styles
As they vary alarmingly from person to person
At the top of the tree are the Royal Marines
Who run with a purpose rarely seen
These men are followed by the obsessives
Who have to run at least once a day
Some are quite fit but others look near death
They have all the equipment not knowing that it weights them down
I have mentioned this on many occasions but I am totally ignored
Women with fat arses come next wearing either tight body armour or skimpy shorts
I do not know what they are trying to achieve as fat arses are part of being apple or pear shaped
Diet girls diet that is the answer and do not put us all through this trauma
As excess flesh can quite often offend or even kill
And then come the dead who jog not realising that they have already died
Jog is probably a bad word as these poor souls just shuffle from one pothole to the next
You may think my observations cruel
But I can assure that they are not as I am a man of the cloth
Who cares for for his fellow joggers
On this the rocky coastal path that leads towards Heaven