Source: Horntip Collection - Half-Mind Hymnal 2011

Lyrics

Written for Dogman’s six-month anniversary of being hit by a car while bicycling home. Affectionately, the hash was titled “Gimp Limp”

The legend lives on from Monte Sano on down Of the big town they called Rocket Shitty The streets, it is said, never give up their dead When the skies of December turn gloomy With a load of iron several thousand tons more Than the Hasher Dogman weighed empty. That good hasher and true was a bone to be chewed When the rains of December came early.

His Bike was the pride of the Spring City side Coming back from some sight on the Ars’nal As Knight bikes go, it was faster than most With a rider a hasher well seasoned Concluding some terms with a couple of contractor firms When he left early headed for Home And later that night when the cars horn did sound Could it be the north wind he’d been feelin’?

The rain in the spokes made a tattle-tale sound And a car broke over the shoulder And every man knew, as the hasher did too, T’was the witch of December come stealin’. The ascent came late and the rain couldn’t wait When the Rains of December came slashin’. When dusk came it was a freezin’ rain In the face of a hurricane west wind.

When the time came, the Ford Driver road on a-sayin’. Bikers, it’s too rainy to see ya. At Five P.M. a main rainstorm started in, he said Fellas, it’s been good t’know ya The hasher saw he had an Escort coming in And the good rider and hasher was in peril. And later that night when his lights were knocked outta sight Came the wreck of the Hasher Dogman.

Does any one know where the lost shoe had gone When the waves turned the minutes to hours? The police reports all say He’d have made Clinton Street If He’d put start five minutes earlier. He’s pretty split up and his bike it’s a wreck; May have broken his leg and took quite a beating. And all that remains is the braces and screws In the leg of the old hashing bastard

Bob Wallace rolls, Rocket Shitty sings In the gloom of his beaten down cycle. The Dogman steams with a young hasher’s dreams; The trails and bikelanes are for hashers. And farther below Huntsville Hospital row Takes in what Bob Wallace can send her, And the iron cars go as the bikers all know With the Rains of December remembered.

In an old Chapel on Green Mountain they prayed, In the Hashers favorite setting. The church bell chimed till it rang sixteen times For each screw in the Tibia and Fibula. The legend lives on from Monte Sano on down Of the big street they call Bob Wallace’. Wallace, they said, never gives up her dead When the Rains of December come early!