Up in the morning, before crack of dawn.
Limbering up on, next doors front lawn.
All dressed in pink, like an out of date prawn.
Ye gods! He must be a jogger.
With headband and wristbands, to catch all the sweat.
This outfit he's wearing, for maybe a bet.
And it's pouring with rain, so he's looking quite wet.
Ye gods! He must be a jogger.
Designer brand trainers, attached to his feet.
Off for a sprint, to the end of the street.
Though I quite wonder, who he's trying to beat.
Ye gods! He must be a jogger.
Thirteen days later, he's still not back home.
Wife is a frantic, with police on the phone.
Last spotted jogging near somewhere called, Rome.
Ye gods! He must be a jogger.
