There once was a man in a Bell
Who thought canoeing was swell

He paddled and portaged
Of days there was no shortage

Through wind and rain and feelings of pain
All of which he considered gain

He travelled by day and travelled by night
Thinking it all a delight

Little by little he became old
And consequently, less bold

Now he sits in his chair, his thoughts laid bare
As he is transported back and is without a care

(Hey, I thought limericks were supposed to be funny? Oh well, its what came out)