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The Sign of the Frisbee
A beckon and call,
To one and to all:
"Come to the circle and play."
"Lets play the night away,"
At the circle they'll say,
Where often the sign is found.
Where great friends abound,
With much melodious sound,
There you will see the sign.
As it soars with a whine,
That is quite almost divine,
This phantom of field an fen.
A zephyr uniting kith and ken,
A banshee dividing the boys from the men,
This disc all aglow from the light.
And so they'll play hard and fight,
With sweat and toil late into the night,
To merely touch that which they cherish.
And those who are strong will flourish,
Appeasing the need which they nourish,
As they capture the disc for their own.
Play like it's all you've ever known,
Running hard with your hair windblown,
Simply to play, win or lose.
Your team of friends you didn't chose,
Your opponents, playing with different views,
A different battle each time 'tis fought.
Respect and honor is what is sought,
For the disc brings out much thought,
On many things other than sport.
Such things of an interesting sort,
To awaken a man, though he a mort,
Is the delicate task we undertake.
This disc and these friends, for their sake,
To keep them, many sacrifices we'd make,
And THAT is the sign of the Frisbee.
A beckon and call,
To one and to all:
"Come to the circle and play."
"Lets play the night away,"
At the circle they'll say,
Where often the sign is found.
Where great friends abound,
With much melodious sound,
There you will see the sign.
As it soars with a whine,
That is quite almost divine,
This phantom of field an fen.
A zephyr uniting kith and ken,
A banshee dividing the boys from the men,
This disc all aglow from the light.
And so they'll play hard and fight,
With sweat and toil late into the night,
To merely touch that which they cherish.
And those who are strong will flourish,
Appeasing the need which they nourish,
As they capture the disc for their own.
Play like it's all you've ever known,
Running hard with your hair windblown,
Simply to play, win or lose.
Your team of friends you didn't chose,
Your opponents, playing with different views,
A different battle each time 'tis fought.
Respect and honor is what is sought,
For the disc brings out much thought,
On many things other than sport.
Such things of an interesting sort,
To awaken a man, though he a mort,
Is the delicate task we undertake.
This disc and these friends, for their sake,
To keep them, many sacrifices we'd make,
And THAT is the sign of the Frisbee.
posted by A Scottish Whisper at 15:56
5 Comments:
Well. That's really pretty dreadful. But it made me laugh. :P
That brings back some fun memories of PHC. :-)
Oh wow!!! Joseph!!! I may be a woman, but I'm not supposed to get THAT sentimental over *Frisbee*... thanks for the snapshot from memory lane.
I was kind of surprised--someone suggested the title and the rest came flowing out. I'm definitely a man and I'll always get sentimental over Frisbee and the memories associated with it. :-D
Amen! Preach it brother, that is the GOSPEL TRUTH! To think the sacramental circular experience now only lives in song and memory...
You have, at some level, captured the spirit of the frisbee - this is quite worthwhile. :)
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