When my brother phoned and told me
that he was going for a run,
I never thought one moment,
it would be under the starter’s gun.
He said he’d do a marathon,
(to me an age old Snickers).
But no, it was the runny-kind.
I couldn’t help but snigger.
It reminded me of the time he called
and said, “She’s expecting twins!”
I laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed
then laughed some more at him.
He took it well, whilst still in shock,
and carried on his life.
Preparing for the inevitable:
1 Ayla, 2 twins, a wife.
Then things went strange;
I got a call, to babysit my Ayla.
I didn’t ask. I grabbed my keys
I was there, in half an hour.
It didn’t matter that the duck I’d bought,
was cooking in the pot.
Or the plum sauce to accompany it,
was left aside to rot.
(no really, don’t mention it.)
So that’s when unlucky Selma,
was diagnosed with palsy.
But the docs had checked her baby bump
and said that all was rosy.
A few weeks on, the twins arrived.
The emotions began to flood.
The girls were made to stay on ward
with complications of their blood.
They’re fine now of course,
our little mountain goats.
Never shy, always fun
and (still) wearing matching coats!
But Sel still wears the scar of this;
she has done for a while.
Whilst happy on the inside,
she finds it hard to smile.
So that’s what made my brother
put on his running shoes,
and beg you all for money
until his face turned blue.
He raised well over 1,600 quid,
(he’d aimed for only half.)
And now he’s home, with blistered toes,
relaxing in the bath.
To Rew, I say, well done, well run,
Are you signed up for next year’s?
To those that gave some hard earned dosh
Thank you, good work and cheers!