I want to be a musher,
And drive my sled from Anchorage to Nome.
I’ll run the whole Iditarod
And then mush my way back home.

I practiced all last week,
Staying up without any sleep.
I trucked in snow to my back yard,
And now it’s nice and deep.

My California neighbors,
Think that I ‘m just a little weird,
Going to the local market,
In my mukluks and long beard.

But this notion is more than fancy,
And you can ask my dear wife, Nancy,
Or my third cousin by marriage, Clancy,
They all know I was born to mush.

I bought a titanium sled,
That’s beautiful, sleek, and gray,
It’s the latest thing from the company,
That they call Hudson Bay.

You see, my sled is lighter than a feather,
And faster than a car.
It can get to the finish in half the time,
And it can travel twice as far.

I’ve got headlights on the transom,
And brake lights in the rear,
And we’re outfitted from stem to stern,
With the newest in North Face gear.

I’ve got a  brand new GPS,
And I’ll never need a map,
And I can stay up all week long,
And never need a nap.

My dogs were raised by monks;
They have never heard an unkind word,
No nasty canine habits for them,
No unruly barking to disturb.

So it sounds as if we’re ready,
If they’ll only let me in,
With my sled-dogs trained by monks,
And my perfect California skin,
I’m bound to be a hit.

There’ll be odes that they sing of me,
And reviews of my highlight films,
You’ll see me sitting on my titanium sled,
Eating peaches I’ve dried by kiln.