Walking in a sloping district Down an uneventful day, A fossil rubber round, abandoned, Found itself amidst our way.
Aha! And with some slight excitement Set my friend upon the tire, Upon its side he set the beast Then rolling, gently let it fly With just a touch; but balanced well
Despite disuse of many years, It looked quite ready to revolve; So natural it seemed to feel That at this sudden turn of fate An ancient, sleepy something stirred;
Remembrance of old spinning glories Drove the hill-tire bottomward and Building speed now every turn More reckless, frantic than the last; All just precaution soonly spurned The rubber ring was flying fast.
In fact so fast, so far, so straight Maneuvering the grade until In happenstance it found a ramp Some distance further down the hill; A broken shard of tabletop Astride some heaped-up garbage leaned, Served duty fine to sky-ify The rolling, racing, flighty fiend And missile-make our eager hero;
Hero though no longer after Smashing some poor strangerβs glass; Fighting back our tumult Quickly ran we for the summit,
Panting, bending at the top, He turned to me, my friend and said: *****β¦they usually stop