I have a big dog,
she is a great dane,
give me a moment,
and I’ll Tell you her name.

Her name is Imma
Monna Vone Jaad,
She is the goofiest dog,
I’ve ever had.

She sites in the chair,
just like a princes,
gallops through the yard,
in her pretty pink vest.

When people come to see us,
she’s always there to greet,
better watch for her tail,
she’ll knock you off your feet.

This is the end of my poem,
and that goes to show em,
that my dog is the best,
in her pretty pink vest.

As the thirty second board goes up,
We start to rev up,
Waiting for the gates to drop.

The gate drops.

You want to be first to the turn,
First one to the berm,
That means you are in the lead,
And doing a good deed.

Racing through the turns,
You don’t want to crash and burn,
Handle bars are rubbing,
But rubbing is racing.

In every race there are jumps,
One called table the bump,
It’s 110 feet long,
You have enough time to sing a song.

As you soar through the air,
Like others don’t care,
Racing is rough,
Staying up is tough.

Fishing season is coming,
Bob houses are getting ready,
Traps are full,
Bate is steady.

Keepin fresh bait is key,
Tip up are a must,
Watch out out for the wind,
They might trick you,

When the wind blows,
The flags will go up,
There will not be anything on the line,
But the flag still goes up with no reason.

When the ice is quiet,
The fish will bite,
When there is a riot,
The fishing is despite.

There is never a bad day on the ice,
The worst day is if the ice concurs something from you,
You do not want to lose the dice,
This is a bad day on the ice.