Oh listen, won't you, reader, to a tale of two good friends -
Began the first adventure that seemed t'would never end.
With little but their hearts of iron and steel for a will,
That started on a summer day, to ride down Deadman's Hill.
So bravely did they first descend -
So badly did they spill!
So gallantly they got back up,
To conquer Deadman's Hill.
Through prickle-bushes' vines that seemed to have an evil will,
Through gravel-beds that ground the tires like wheat upon a mill.
No wind or rain would stop them, and not would they until,
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
They'd gone down every single trail, that lead down Deadman's Hill.
Two brave explorers bold and true, unshakeable good friends,
How long they stuck together for a goal without an end.
They mended squabbles, braved the unknown, monsters did they kill -
With every rumble of those wheels that went down Deadman's Hill.
If they did crash, they patched back up their sturdy red machine,
Or got it out from something that it was stuck fast between.
An injury was just a badge of courage, if you will,
For nothing could defeat them, came what may on Deadman's Hill.
The months turned into seasons,
And the seasons turned to years.
Courageous both explorers, ever venturing out still,
To find their next adventure, somewhere out on Deadman's Hill.
Sometimes they both struck out on ventures fearless and so bold,
Sometimes they walked familiar places, telling tales of old.
Or just to sit together for to hear a songbird's trill,
Each day brought something wonderful, way out on Deadman's Hill.
How many maps they drew of places wild and untamed,
How many times they limped home, undefeated all the same,
Their partnership held strong and true, so very long until -
One day they made their last adventure, down that Deadman's Hill.
That fateful time they made their trip as often they had planned,
But neither could imagine, they'd no more walk hand in hand.
Yet when they'd done exploring and then gone where'er they willed,
No longer would they thunder, oh those wheels down Deadman's Hill.
No chatter of camaraderie, no cheer of victory,
Not one more 'this way' arrow carven on a sturdy tree.
Their boots will not again leave prints, no voice will break the still,
The wheels now rest in silence at the crest of Deadman's Hill.