R*n 327: Overton

We gathered on the car park in front of an inn,
The day was crisp and bright, we were eager to begin,
Office trolley and White Noise had set the flour down,
They were warned us there was a risk that we could drown,
But as hashers we're brave and able,
We set off feeling highly capable...
The track began nice and dry,
But quickly turned into muddy pies,
We made it through the fields,
With mud on our heels,
Time for a wimps and rambos split,
The rambos' hill found the unfit...
On on to a path where we passed a little dog,
Ice skating on a frozen solid bog,
We carried on puffing and panting through grassy lands,
The cold winters day was getting to our hands,
Eventually we reached solid ground,
We followed the flour, hot drinks and hashy christmas cake were found.
We were warned not to stop as we passed the on inn,
The hares had been cruel, there was more to be seen,
Through the village we passed,
Then on to a path,
It took us to the beach,
Which was covered in rubbish (including empty bottles of bleach),
The final push was a huge hill,
It took all of your will,
To charge up to the top,
With views good enough to make you stop,
The final charge down the slope,
At last there was hope...
We ran with delight,
The end was in sight,
Ate some tasty grub,
In Overton's pub,
Overall a great r*n,
We had lots of fun.

Apologies to any genuine poets out there... English was never my favourite subject.