All summer long on ThL, it’s bangers and mash,
Talkin’ trash, spittin’ tales, slingin’ brash.
While men chase bread under skies bone-dry,He’s resurrectin’ his old dog, givin’ life one more try.
He spins stories of glory, times long gone,
Of his hound’s prime days, when it ran till dawn.
But whispers fly—can that old mutt still strut?
Or’s it just hot air, a tale in a rut?
Accusations swirl ‘bout that dog’s return,
“Back from retirement!” he boasts, eyes burn.
Nikes laced, leash tight, bike’s dusted off,
They hit the track hard, but the dogs
looki