I don’t like driving machinery
With my ancy pants-y dad
For some deranged and crazy reason
There’s no outcome but bad

I usually get hurt
Whether physically or mentally
This one time I came back
With my finger all bent-idy

Now I’ll tell you the story
About when I crashed
My leg got all banged up
With a sorry hurting gash

My dad kept exclaiming
“BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH”
He wanted me to listen
To that I said “Nahhhh”

I was driving a quad
He was perched on the back
All the stuff he was saying
Made him sound like a quack

He got in my head
Made me kinda confused
It resulted in one big old black and blue bruise.
We went sharp ‘round the corner, and into a tree
Over the handlebars went little me

It didn’t hurt much
I was just pretty scared
The adrenaline maybe?
For a second I was spared
But then I looked down
And let a SCREAM slip
The skin on my leg had quite a few rips

It hurt very bad
After that first short glance
Like I was repeatedly crushed by an avalanche         
It stung like I’d been targeted by 50,000 bees
Please don’t  get me started on my knees
My skin was ripped up and looked slightly screwy
The cuts had blood drops that looked kinda dewy

It was pretty scary
I was kinda wacked
My dad wanted to know
If my tibia was cracked
I was just 9 years old, so slightly dramatic

But for real, it was very seriously traumatic

There isn’t a memory
Of the short quad ride back
On our way to the cottage
To get my leg wrapped
There were screams and I cried
As if that’d justify
The fact that
“DAD. I VERY WELL COULD HAVE JUST DIED.”

When we arrived
My aunt nearly fainted
My cousin Jacks little round face was tainted
They asked me what happened
To that I replied
“I went over some handle bars
And flew through the sky”

“My leg’s  bruised like an apple
At the end of the season,
My head keeps on aching without any reason,
It didn’t get smashed
I’m not concussed I swear
My hands are dirty and gross like a dusty brown pear
We’re up here in Irons
There’s no reason to rush
We aren’t near a hospital
(I’M REALLY NOT CONCUSSED!)”

Then they calmed down
“Thank Jesus Christ”
For the next 2 or 3 hours
I exercised R.I.C.E

Now you know the story
Of that one night I learned
On 18 year old quads
You should NOT do sharp turns.