Murder And Mystery At The 1968 Olympics Poem by Kim Barney

It was the year of sixty-eight
and we were deemed the best
of all the greatest relay teams;
we just out-shined the rest.

‘T was hot that year in Mexico,
but we were primed to win,
and we could hardly stand the wait
for those Games to begin.

Bri Edwards ran the lead-off lap,
and running next was Hank.
I ran the third, and for the last,
we'd Cowboy Ron to thank.

The race began, and Bri took off;
the crowd just lost its mind.
Bri stumbled, and his shoe came off,
and he was far behind.

But he kept on without his shoe,
and soon made up some ground.
(But later, when the race was o'er,
his shoe could not be found.)

Bri's shorts had fallen off as well,
as he found out quite soon.
The people came to see some stars,
and they saw a full moon.

Hank ran the best lap of his life,
at an outstanding pace,
and when the second lap was done,
we were in second place.

I ran my best, but could not catch
that speedy guy from France.
With only one more lap to go,
Ron was our only chance.

Then suddenly some shots rang out;
there was a shooter there!
The people scrambled all about,
and screaming filled the air.

Three runners down, but one ran on;
we all remember that.
The one who crossed the finish line
had on a cowboy hat.

A new world record had been set;
we knew we would, of course.
Ron didn't even break a sweat,
and neither did his horse!