Long drive to the river.
Short nights sleep.
Cold, wet gear goes on, I shiver.
Not a care in the world, I’m
River’s low, so is money,
Yet enough to get vertical and play,
Then come home to dinner, and my honey.
Life is good when I’m,
Buddies pull in late, crash on my RV floor.
We’ll go hard tomorrow, then go some more.
Some see us as machos battling.
Think what you like but we’re,
Just paddling is a mission, an obsession,
There is no other way to be there.
I’m there and I understand it is not fair.
I have many friends that I wish could also be,
For them, and anyone with the dream, let me show the way,
By living my life as a kayaker, everyday.
But the dream isn’t only realized by me,
Just go out on the Potomac or Chattahoochee,
You’ll see the 9 to fiver out after work is, for that time,
Carpenter, lawyer, doctor, just a means to an end,
But the question on the river is, “how many ends?”
Forgot your brief case at work? There is a problem.
Forget your sprayskirt? Your doomed, because now,
Your not paddling.
But good things come to those who wait
She arrives just before dark, quite late…
Your paddling partner, with an extra skirt.
Thank God, because somebody was going to get hurt,
If today, you couldn’t finish the day,