To ride out through the farms.
While making good mileage,
I got whiffs of corn silage
And other farming charms.
'Twas as cold as a fridge
On that windy old ridge
As my lonely way I found
Past Mt. Horeb and Blue Mound
And beyond Verona just a smidge.
From Dodgeville to Barneveld,
Oh, the pain my bottom felt!
But I rode on a loner
On into Verona,
A forty-miler underneath my belt.
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