Climbing Poem by Phil Soar

He was a mountaineer and had no fear of heights or falling
Although his choice of climbing routes was really quite appalling
When he set off from base camp, no-one knew if he'd come back
He might fall off a precipice or slip into a crack
One day he climbed the Matterhorn, and almost reached the top
He caught his ropes on ragged slopes, and knew he had to stop
The weather turned however, and blew him off the rocks
They found his body down below, and someone stole his socks