Carol Wolfe contributes this bit of doggerel
This is a song that Lisa Bennet, Jeff Boring, and I made up
as we struggled up Mikies in 90-degree weather.
Hi Ho, Hi Ho,
It's up the hill we go.
We're out of breath
And so near death.
Hi Ho, Hi Ho, Hi Ho

Hi Ho, Hi Ho,
It's up the hill we go.
Our legs they slake.
Our brains are baked.
Hi Ho, Hi Ho, Hi Ho

 Hi Ho, Hi Ho,
It's up the hill we go.
Our friends they wait
To seal our fate.
Hi Ho, Hi Ho, Hi Ho

Hi Ho, Hi Ho,
It's up the hill we go.
It's hot out here.
Where is the beer?
Hi Ho, Hi Ho, Hi Ho

 Hi Ho, Hi Ho,
It's up the hill we go.
We're at the end.
Let's do it again.
Hi Ho, Hi Ho, Hi Hooooooo!
And from John Anderson - this epic.
It was a great love affair, 
The feelings ran deep. 
I love my shoes, 
My shoes love my feet. 
My feet are a sight, 
Best not seen in day. 
Corns, calluses, black nails 
Where the fungus does play. 
Yet dressed with a sock, 
Double layered and white, 
My feet become handsome 
Soon ready for flight. 
Now the moment of shoeing 
As the tongues backward lay, 
The foot slips forward. 
Pure ecstasy, I say! 
With the laces pulled snug, 
Double ties in their place,
My feet have been knighted.
I'm ready to race.
My shoes were forever,
A love undefined,
Imagine my horror when
They discontinued the line.
My life is now shattered.
My depression runs deep.
How could they just kill them,
Not consulting the bereaved?
The new line will be lighter,
The P. R. decreed,
The price slightly higher,
Sure to fit my need.
Yet I sit here on the fringe,
Pondering a true love I know,
While fantasizing revenge
On a corporate E. O.

John Anderson