The Hiker

Insisting on hiking "commando"
(He claims for the sake of his health)
Everyone knows that
Wherever he goes that
The hiker is pleasing himself

Dressed up in sackcloth and ashes
In memory of his late wife
Whose body is strapped to his bicycle
Flying behind like a kite

The hiker's real name is Frank Randle
His grey hair pinned up in a bun
Flopping in sandals
Away from his scandals
The hiker is having such fun

The pollen beneath his proboscis
The snuff in its pouch on a string
The hiker's erecting his tent now
His fucksack spread out on the ground

He seems to be thriving
Though winter's arriving
And death tags around like a bloodhound

The black girls sit up in the branches
Swinging their legs in the rain
The filthy old hiker
Is down on his bike
Pumping his organ again

Munching a bar of black chocolate
Swigging the tea from a flask
His frankly disgusting
Appendage is thrusting
Out of its Elastoplast

Amongst nettles and shrubs
And deciduous trees
In a hammock he's made with his dick

He is a force
Of nature of course
His rotting wife strapped to his back

The pollen beneath his proboscis
The ghost flying high on her string
The hiker must reason
No matter what season
For him it's eternally spring

The hiker's real name is Frank Randle
His grey hair pinned up in a bun
Flopping in sandals
Away from his scandals
The hiker is having such fun