On a lake with a name bang-on the same
As our opening act’s lead fellow,
We’d hoped to stow the stuff in the snow,
And we tried—but it was all yellow!
So into the woods we schlepped the goods
To shroud them from light of day,
Where a forested fold embraces the cold—
For a beautiful venue to play!
From a croft of sand in the far-off land
Of a once-booming industry town—
Beacon of burnage, a bustling burgage—
Segmented by way of the crown.
With city united by lads longsighted
And rock ’n’ roll’s star reawoken,
Traipse on a trail by hill and by dale
And track down a treasured token.
Run to the hills for this battle of wills,
If you long for a "yes" or a "no"—
To a natural thrill with nary a frill,
Where giants and wild things grow.
Make like a tree—scientifically;
Hew close to the path, as one should,
To find your maiden, heavy-laden—
Cast not out of iron, but in wood.
Seek out the gleam of a brilliant stream,
And trails, all wooded and burled—
Where faithful legions from many regions
Descend on the top of the world.
The bend in a river is sure to deliver
A beautiful park full of answers
To the treasured question; our suggestion?
Just charge ahead and lock antlers!
Tough act to follow, heeding the call o'
Adventure that we devise—
From highs to lows and plains to plateaus,
Search as the eagle flies.
Look in a nook where river meets brook
For a gift from the afterlife—
And ambulate through the rolling estate
To dwell on the edge of a knife.
