5.10c (Five Ten C) to the tune of “Lemon Tree” by “Peter, Paul and Mary”
When I was just leading ten, the
Hardman said to me,
"Come here and take a lesson from the lovely 5.10c"
"Don't put your faith in cams nor Friends", Hardman said to me,
"I fear you'll find no protection on this lovely 5.10c."
5.10c very cruxy and the fingers find their jams
But the flares of the thin seam are impossible for cams.
5.10c very cruxy and the pockets are on the face
But the cams or the poor Friends are impossible to place.
One day beneath the 5.10c, belayer and I did lie
A grigri so tight that when it locked my nuts almost did die
We passed that summer hangdogging that bloody 5.10c
The music of jangling gear hid that Hardman's words from me:
5.10c very cruxy and the fingers find their jams
But the flares of the thin seam are impossible for cams.
5.10c very cruxy and the pockets are on the face
But the cams or the poor Friends are impossible to place.
One day I tried, without a hang, to get back the fun.
But the crack I had dogged and whined, it knew what I had done.
One after another, when I fell, my Friends it spat and threw.
A sadder man but lamer now I sing these words to you:
5.10c very cruxy and the fingers find their jams
But the flares of the thin seam are impossible for cams.
5.10c very cruxy and the pockets are on the face
But the cams or the poor Friends are impossible to place.
"Come here and take a lesson from the lovely 5.10c"
"Don't put your faith in cams nor Friends", Hardman said to me,
"I fear you'll find no protection on this lovely 5.10c."
5.10c very cruxy and the fingers find their jams
But the flares of the thin seam are impossible for cams.
5.10c very cruxy and the pockets are on the face
But the cams or the poor Friends are impossible to place.
One day beneath the 5.10c, belayer and I did lie
A grigri so tight that when it locked my nuts almost did die
We passed that summer hangdogging that bloody 5.10c
The music of jangling gear hid that Hardman's words from me:
5.10c very cruxy and the fingers find their jams
But the flares of the thin seam are impossible for cams.
5.10c very cruxy and the pockets are on the face
But the cams or the poor Friends are impossible to place.
One day I tried, without a hang, to get back the fun.
But the crack I had dogged and whined, it knew what I had done.
One after another, when I fell, my Friends it spat and threw.
A sadder man but lamer now I sing these words to you:
5.10c very cruxy and the fingers find their jams
But the flares of the thin seam are impossible for cams.
5.10c very cruxy and the pockets are on the face
But the cams or the poor Friends are impossible to place.
5.10c
5.10c
5.10c
Lyrics © Ranjeet S. Tate 2012
No comments:
Post a Comment