'Twas the jog before Christmas, when all through the Loire,

chapels were bustling preparing their choirs.

The sun was shining in a sky blue and crisp,

my strides quickly turned from sluggish to brisk.

As I ran through the fields my heart beat like a racket,

could I beat my best time? Would I finally crack it?

I flew past the storks and the doves in a flash.

The wind compelled me, I was quick as a flash.

Crossing the end line like a marathon winner,

Finally ready for a succulent Christmas dinner!