by Frank Mellor

In the summer of ‘86 siege tactics were employed on a twenty foot route at Stanage. Although the attempt was unsuccessful the style in which it was made inspired this poetic gem.

I watched a wind blown figure Below a roof of rock, A holey orange tee shirt And a badly darned left sock.

His right leg and his forearms Are quivering fit to bust, In another two short seconds He will surely Bite the Dust!

His Springer spaniel and his wife Both watch, devoid of hope, For the sixteenth time that afternoon He sags onto the rope.

“I’ll give it one last try,” he says, The chance must not be missed And so into that loathsome crack He jams his bleeding fist.

A few choice words he mutters And wears determined frown, But odd EBs kick at the air And he hangs there, upside down!

The watchers roar in sheer delight To see this latest antic, I fear this beastly little route Will drive our hero frantic. He will return once more he vows To do it in the wet! Perhaps, with helmet back to front, He’ll catch you Marmoset.