Hail to the North and those who live there;
Who face the long winter with nary a care.

From these great expanses came legend and lore
of hack pilots bolder and colder than any before.

While winter and snow have others deep in their funks
The ones out there driving, you bet cha, dere Skunks.

They're hearty souls with bikes and a chair…
(and some with pot bellies and grey wispy hair).

And every last one, a scholar and thinker,
with beloved machines, which they modify and tinker.

Quietly on back roads and highways they amble along,
Grumbling, sputtering, or singing a song.

GPS …Humbug! You can stick that in your hat,
( as long as I've my rig I know right wheres I'm at.)

A jovial bunch who jest and banter with word
and never quite ran with the rest of the heard.

With black flies, big `skeeters, and frostbite for sure,
there's no problem there that three wheels cannot cure.

And let me assure you I know this is what's true
To be a real Skunk, there's just one thing to do:

No secret, no pass word or flash of your blinker;
to be a real Skunk, you must be a stinker.

© Lee Palmer  --  POET LAUREATE of the SKUNKS
January 4th 2004

A gathering, was held today,
amidst mid winters gloom.

The SKUNKS came out to laugh n' play,
Deep in the Land O' Loon.

Where friends and fun were "come what may",
And dreams came into bloom.

While home brewed porter led the way,
To gastronomical festoons.

There's not much else, let me just say,
Let's do this again before June.

The only bad part of the day,
Was that it ended all too soon.

Afterthoughts …

While summer plans seem far away,
We await three days in June.

When again we meet for a weekend stay,
And pitch tents beneath the moon.

To lounge and sing or music play
Or start your day at noon.

Come one come all sign up today,
Come dance to a different tune.

Not July, August or even lovely May
It's Cameron, folks, Wisconsin; the 4th through 6th of June

Now get your rig and plan to stay,
And hang with SKUNKS real soon.

© Lee Palmer
January 11th, 2004