Phish Tales

In the wilds of the savannah, there’s a tale that’s often told,
Of a creature with a spirit, always daring, always bold.
If you ever see one bolting, you might hear the locals troll:
“Just run like an antelope out of control!”

Now Mickey once said to me, with that mischievous twinkle in his eye,
Have you ever watched an antelope? Oh my, oh my, oh my!
It’s not the grace nor the speed, but the way they leap the sky,
And the absolute terror when they hear a lion’s cry!

“I tried running once,” said Mickey, “from Glasgow to the Clyde,
But I didn’t look as elegant, no matter how I tried.
The antelope, they prance and dance, with legs so long and wide,
While I just trudge and stumble, with my Scottish pride.”

One day in a pub, a mate challenged with a cheeky grin,
“Mickey, if you’re so certain, why not race one for a pint of gin?”
Mickey laughed, “I’d surely lose, where would I even begin?
Against the swiftness of an antelope, it’s surely a sin!”

But imagine the sight, in the heart of the night,
Mickey Connolly racing, with all his might,
Against an antelope, with the moon shining bright,
Oh, that’s a story, that would be outta sight!

So here’s to the antelope, and to Mickey’s comedic role,
For reminding us to laugh, and to cherish our soul,
And if you ever need to flee, or escape from a troll,
Just remember to “run like an antelope out of control!”