In Boston's old city, they began their bright story, by walking for charity,
they marched miles, forty.
Past the Charles and Fenway, and by jamaica pond,
to Canton and Roslindale and then journeyed on.
For stop two, headed west, pit stop San Fransisco
traveled north to the redwoods,
in yosemite did a disco.
They hiked past the half dome before continuing north,
then paused in Seattle to see the fisherman's wharf.
Then they changed their direction by voyaging south,
caught the sands of north Chile,
to seek public health.
They heard babies hearts and gave children candies,
then took a long break to trek up the Andes.
Checked Peru and then Canada soon of the list,
dodged riots enroute to Cuzco,
and awed Machu Picchu's mist.
Montreal's nice in March though there is quite a chill,
these shoes biked all the bridges and sleded the hill.
Off to France these shoes wandered for a new kind of pace,
run around through the Alps,
and gazed on Mt. Blanc's face.
They raced the french cows to prove all their power,
After, strolled by the seine and viewed eiffel's tower.
On the way down down to Spain, a glum event did transpire,
These shoes found a hole,
And were forced to retire.
Although it's quite sad because my shoe's life was neat,
I'm lucky this time, as I still have my feet.
