Jiminy Disobeys Their Fitness Goals

Not going for those last five thousand steps

(that’s two and a half miles).
I’ll just stay home and run my fiddle laps.

I don’t want to get my fiddle wet
with sudsy water, but I’ve been known to drool
on its spruce top, going for the next five thousand reps

of Mississippi Sawyer: I kept
up the beat just fine,
while the others swung the melody axe.

And tonight I’m listening to our fine takes,
nice traces of what a great time
we had running our five thousand laps—

right in my living room, no less—
sawing and singing Run That Rabbit Out of Town.
So I don’t need to count more steps.

I’m proud I have my fiddle chops
and I can saw a fiddle tune.
Ain’t gonna walk five thousand steps.
I’ll just scrape until I fall asleep.