The annexe cave of rim sits mournfully at the foot of razor sharp, mountainous valleys of pain.

Rambling Bob resides there in misery, and it is my sworn duty to find our faithful narrator.

I wrapped a scarf around my head to protect my eyes from a vicious stenchwind which had blown in from the eastern goidian urals.

I chanced a kinky glance back down at my footsteps and saw Hom-Ken, a mere dot in the misty distance, stalking me. One of our ends would come upon this rocky region. I prayed it would not be mine.

I could barely make out the annexe cave of rim some one hundred feet above the plains. I could reach Rambling Bob before long. Hom-Ken upon my tail. I feared doom fast approaching. I thought of an old ramblers' ode to keep me spirits up as I climbed the final stretch...

Forever, we trek
Under bridges of starlight
Combed, like sandpiper eggs
Kept like men.

Yonder light shall guide thee fair
Oh how brittle the keen eyes of Trekkers be
Undulating and shimmering.

Yonder, will our gifted dwell
O'er mountain glade and shining brook
Under a bridge of crispy dreams

Unspoken vows of ramble whims
Trembling, tumbling - honest mirth
Taken from the cradle of Atlas' clasp
Ending never
Returning often

Clasped in golden light
Under and over stile
Never looking back
Til glory, or doom.

Jez