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