They laughed at me at Lowstern when I turned up on the meet,
“His ice-axe is old fashioned, there are hobnails on his feet”,
But none the less, the President said, pleased by that shining morn,
“I’m fed up with the Clapham way, but, let’s climb the Inglehorn.

I had the bright idea of going up to Raven Scar,
Across the clints to Devil’s Pass, it wouldn’t be too far,
So off we went to Chapel-le-Dale and mounted up the fell,
There was Arthur, David, Alan Kay and Juliet as well.

We got into the Devil’s Rift and Arthur found a way,
Which steepened up in solid snow just by a little bay,
Our leader went with great aplomb but soon stopped in his tracks,
“It’s just a little awkward here, I ought to have an axe”

I felt a little diffident with my old Aschenbre nner,
It hadn’t cost an awful lot, at Pool’s in Leeds, a tenner,
But all my bold companions, now fearful of a fall, Had come onto
this mountain without an axe at all.

So up it went from hand to hand our leader used it well,
He must have had some practice in the land of William Tell,
The party used the axe in turn to beat the yawning drop,
And came out on a milder slope not far below the top.

We stopped and had a bite to eat close by the summit shelter,
Up till then, in spite of cloud, the day had been a belter,
After lunch we headed west and onto Simon Fell,
Getting soon below the mist things seemed to be going well.

When suddenly a steep slope loomed, and with a wild surmise,
The party stopped and looked around, concern in all their eyes,
For nobody had crampons except your careful poet,
“It’s only Ingleborough” they said, and they came to rue it.

Our leader wasn’t worried much, his legs were like tree trunks,
He just kicked steps and went on down, leaving behind three funks,
Then Alan took a walking stick to help him on his way,
And David used the ice-axe to get down as best he may.

He cut some steps for Juliet, all well spaced out and neat,
While I sat on a tussock and put crampons on my feet,
I caught up with my comrades and bent down to quick release;
When suddenly we were cordoned by a posse of police.

They’d had a wireless message through it gave them pain to tell,
That dire unlawful happenings were going on on Simon Fell,
We stammered, pitifully, that we really weren’t so bad,
The Club had walked on Simon Fell since Slingsby was a lad.

In fact we always had behaved with every due propriety,
“Irrelevant,” the bobby said “Complaint is from the Society,
Four of you are in the clear, get moving, on your bikes,
The one in real deep trouble is that fellow with the spikes.

The NSPB does not like the use of any gear
That’s liable to hurt wild creatures, which they all hold dear”
This prompted me to speak up clearly in my own defence.
“That crampon spikes can harm the birds does not make any sense”,
Replied the cop, “Your notions need a strong dose of correction.
NSPB exists to offer BEETLES due protection”.