`The time has come,' the Leader said,
`To talk of may things:
Of shoes and ropes and Camalots
Of topographs and slings
And why the sharp end feels so sharp
And why a good pin rings.'

`But wait a bit,' the Second cried,
`Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And some of us are fat!'
`Don't place the gear too high to clean!'
You owe me at least that.

by Wendy Joseph

Whose crags are these I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To look at them from down below.

Some of my friends would think it queer
To stop without a rope or gear,
But the urge to mount this chossy spire
Is even greater than my fear.

It's cold, and though I start to shake,
Towards the base a step I take.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of wind against a hollow flake.

This line is lovely, smooth, and steep,
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

by Melissa

The wall was steep as steep could be,
The ground was flat as flat.
You could not read discussions
Of the uses of Dead Cat:
There wasn't yet a newsgroup
to discuss: Not even that.

The Leader and the Follower
Were cleaning off the moss;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of choss:
"If this were only cleared away,"
They said, "it would be Boss!"

"If three sport weenies with their drills
drilled and pried and chipped.
Do you suppose," the Leader said,
"We'd be no longer gripped?
I doubt it, but let's ask" he said,
As one more beer he sipped.

"O Gymbies, will you post with us?"
The Leader did inquire
"A pleasant post, a pleasing roast,
Atop Slime's roasting pyre:
We must confess that your BS,
would make for splendid fire!

Hardman Knott just looked at him,
But never a word he said:
Hardman Knott just flexed his pecks,
And shook his shaven head--
Meaning to say he'd much prefer
To flash 5.12 instead.

But eight young Gymbies hurried up,
All eager for the talk:
With harness carefully doubled back,
and hands awash in chalk--
And this was odd, because, you know,
They never had touched rock.

A pair of bolters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And Traddies by the score--
And AOLers spraying trash,
All scrambling to the war.

The Leader and the Follower
Talked for three threads or so,
And then they trolled the newbies,
saying "you are climbers, no?"
And all the little lurkers sat
And waited for the show.

"The time has come," the Leader said,
"To post of many things:
Of Friends--and chocks--and cordelettes--
Of climbs called "wings and stings"--
Of Batten's back, Amanda's rack--
And strength of spectra slings."

"But wait a bit," Softbodies cried,
"Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!"
"No hurry!" said the Leader.
They thanked him much for that.

"A donut, fried" Al Black replied,
"Is what we chiefly need:
Cake or glazed or buttermilk
Are very good indeed--
Now if you're ready, Climbers dear,
We can begin to read."

"But don't flame us!" young 'hi' then cried,
Turning a little green.
"After such kindness, that would be
A thing that's downright mean!"
"This thread is fine," the Leader said.
"Do you admire the scene?

"It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very good!"
The Follower said nothing but
"Toss on a bit more wood:
These flames seem to be dying out,
Not blazing like they should!"

"It seems a shame," the Leader said,
"To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them up so far,
And made them think so quick!"
The Follower said nothing but
"This 'hi' is such a Dick!"

"I pity him," the Leader said:
"I really feel his pain."
With sobs and tears he tossed a rock
That crushed a newbie's brain,
Holding a pen-knife to another's
pulsing jugular vein.

"O newbies," said the Follower,
"You've had a pleasant chat!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But silence answered that--
And this was scarcely odd, because
On all of them they'd shat.

by Brutus of Wyde

Lord Slime, who art in (Ft.) Collins
Hallowed be Thy name
Thy email come, Thy wrath be known
in pixels as it is in Colorado
Give us this day our daily flame
Forgive us our insolence
as we forgive those who spew fire against us.
Lead us not into long threads
and deliver us from boneheads.

by Grant M

Lord Slime is my shepherd, I shall not flame
He maketh me to think twice before I post:
he pointeth me to the library for more research
He prepareth for me large glasses of wine:
he taketh my picture whilst puking
Yea, though I trek to the Valley walls, I will fear, for thou art with me: thy laugh and minimal rack terrify me
Thou forceth me to lead scary offwidths:
thou preparest a rappel with different size ropes
Surely sunny crags and doughnuts shall I find all the days of my life: I will post on the n.g. of the Lord for ever

by Grant M.

heer i climed awl dae
in dee sun no wurk jus plae
an heer wil i sta
--climer hikoo

by Karl Lew

Penalty slack sucks
Remind me not to tease you
When I am leading

by Rex Pieper

Yet, fear not friend: not all's in vain
For one man's loss is others' gain.
You've saved us, by your barren posting,
From words which may have sparked a roasting.
Many of us could learn this well -
To hit the "send" before we tell
Our thoughts on ethics, bolts and reefer:
Perhaps our posts should all be briefer?
Console yourself.  When all is done,
You may have lost - but we have won.

 by Vicki

The following may not be as funny out of context, but it was one of the funniest things ever posted on rec.climbing at the time. To sum up, someone named Zionwalls posted a pretty good, but badly presented, trip report. Some people critisized the presentation and refused to read it, other people applauded the TR and compared his style to James Joyce. The ensuing flame war went on for miles. And then, out of the murk, the following emerged:

Green Eggs and Slime

>Hello my name is Zionwalls.
>I've climbed on rocks and taken falls.
>I wrote a trip report and posted,
>tho I fear I will get toasted.
>It isn't long, it isn't short,
>I hope you like my trip report.

"I will not read your trip report,
I will not read it , long or short!
It hasn't any puncuation!
A product of a careless nation!
I will not read your trip report,
I will not read it , long or short!"

>Would you read it on a ledge?
>or hooked on a dime sized-edge?

"I will not read it on a ledge,
nor while hooked upon an edge!
I will not read your trip report,
I will not read it , long or short!"

>Would you read it on rapell?
>or on a climb that's named Green Hell?

"I would not read it on rapell,
or while climbing on Green Hell.
I will not read it on a ledge,
nor while hooked upon an edge!
I will not read your trip report,
I will not read it , long or short!"

>Would you read it on belays?
>Or in a bar on resting days?

"Not on belays!
Not on rest days!
Not on rapell!
Not on Green Hell!
Not on a ledge!
Not from an edge!
It hasn't any puncuation!
A product of a careless nation!
I will not read your trip report,
I will not read it , long or short!"

>Perhaps because it's trad, not sport?
>Would you then read my trip report?

"I do not care if your report
involves either trad or sport!
Paragraph's are what it's lacking!
You are no artist! You were slacking!
I will not read it at belays,
nor in bars on resting days!
I won't read it on rapell,
nor on 11.b Green Hell!
I will not read your trip report,
I will not read it , long or short!"

>But we left lots of gear up there.
>you could retrieve it if you dare.
>Perhaps the ropes could yet be freed,
>if my trip report you'd read.
>Use them if you climb the Prow.
>Free haul lines! Go get them now!

"I do not want your dodgy gear,
and not because I'm filled with fear.
Through written clay I will not plow!
I'll buy my own ropes for the Prow!
I don't care if trad or sport,
is the theme of your report.
I won't read it Zionwalls!
For though you have gorrilla balls,
for posting text in solid blocks
about your climbs on chossy rocks,
I still won't read it at belays
or in bars on resting days,
or while dangling on rapell,
nor while smearing up Green Hell,
or while resting on a ledge,
nor while hooking some small edge!
Paragraphs? It hasn't any!
Bad posts here are far too many!
You do not use puncuation!
A product of a careless nation!
I will not read your trip report,
I will not read it , long or short!"

>You will not read it, so you say.
>But you may like it, yes you may!
>An epic we got thru some how,
>I wish you would just read it now.

"Zion if you let me be,
I will read some, then we'll see"

......time passes.......

"Hey, I like this trip report!
It's not too long, and not to short!
I will read this on belays,
And in bars on resting days!
I will read it on rapell,
and when I try to send Green Hell!
I will read it up on ledges,
and while hooking fragile edges!
I'll even haul it up the Prow.
I'm so glad I read it now.
I really like this trip report!
It's not too long, and not to short!"

 by Cat_in_the_Hat

In the state of New Jersey,
In the City of Nork,
the climbing traditions had taken a fork,

There were those who would claim
that the Gap was just choss,
and perfect for "mixing", on ice covered moss.

The other contingent
(who used one inch slings),
said the "The rock it is sacred! Dont bash it with things!

Tho it isn't the Gunks
nor the New nor the 'Adirondacks
or the much touted valley called College of Cracks........

We much prefer climbing it free with our racks!

It's all that we have
dont abuse it at all
'Cause a crag is a crag, no matter how small!"

"We will hook if we wanna."
the Mixers retorted,
"With grubb hoes and warhogs, and bolts to be sported!

With pocket-torn daiseys
and gri-gri's all dented
we'll do what we wish 'cause the rock is fragmented!"

and they roped up and started to climb, half demented.....

Now the Tradrats were horrified,
their crag being scrached,
by the tools and protection with Mixers attached.

"It just isn't fair!"
from below they did call,
"Cause a crag is a crag, no matter how small!"

but the Mixers, they paid no attention at all.........

That is until one of them
high on the crux,
fell into the nest of some Warter Gap Ducks.....

now Warter Gap Ducks
though the name is banal,
evolved in the waste of a Love-ly canal.

Their nests are so air-tight,
their chicks are hypoxic.
The guano they exude is really quite toxic.

The leader was gasping
and holding his breath
knowing a fall here would end in his death.....

"A rescue!" he cried!
"I need one right now!"
but his partners below had no clue as to how...

Then a protesting Tradrat noticed the row.......

"I will help you."
he said "Tho' your ethics do suck,
no person should die in the nest of a duck.

We'll run up a rope
to that Monocot Tree
and from there we can reach him. We'll hurry! You'll see!"

And the Tradrats all hustled
and tied up some lines
with boyscout-like-deathknots all tangled like vines.

The fattest one rapped
first down to the nest
then tied in the victim and then rapped the rest........

and revived him with beer at the bottom. (that's best)

Then the Mixers said "Tradrats,
perhaps we are wrong
to gouge up the choss you have climbed free so long".

We'll wait till it freezes,
then head to the Gunks,
where the rock doesn't fall in such deadly big chunks."

So they packed up their quickdraws
covered with crud,
and drove off in Blazers and Volvos thru mud.

And as they drove off
they echoed the call,
"A crag is a crag, no matter how small!"

by Nathan Sweet

he makith me climb up from the bottom.
He leadith me away from rap-bolting;

he restorith my ethics.
He leadith me up lines of Nature with no chipping.

Even though I walk through the Owens Valley in the shadow of bolts,
I leaveth no trace; for my nuts and my hexes art with me;
my hands and my feet, they supportith me.

Thou preparest a belay before me in the presence of natural features;
thou splittith the granite with fractures, my rack overflows.

Surely good placements and stances shall await me on all the routes in my life;
and I shall climb within my ability on the crags of the LORD for ever.

Chouinard 19:72

by Nathan Sweet