Hiking

Hit the road, my parents said, when I was but a lad,
now that you've an appetite and are a high school grad.
And so I trudged down paths and trails to see what I could see;
and found myself with bunions, boils, and socks that smelled like brie.
I vowed that when my ship came in I'd never hike again --
but loll upon a davenport just like a broody hen.
My vessel must have sunk somewhere just off the coast, alas,
since I kept marching onward but all wealth did me bypass. 
I've hiked the Appalachian Trial a dozen times so far,
following a will-o-wisp I thought my rising star.
 My nickname is Bad Karma; it's because when I return
the only thing that I bring back is sizzling sunburn . . .