"You ain't been squattin"
A classic poem for gym-rats.
Way down this road, in a gym far away, A young man was once heard to say, "I've repped high and I've repped low,
No matter what I do, my legs won't grow" He tried leg extensions, leg curls, and leg presses too
Trying to cheat, these sissy workouts he'd do.
From the corner of the gym where the BIG men train, Through a cloud of chalk and the midst of pain Where the big iron rides high and threatens lives, Where the noise is made with big forty-fives, A deep voice bellowed as he wrapped his knees, A very big man with legs like trees. Laughing as he snatched another plate from the stack Chalking his hands and monstrous back, said, "Boy, stop lying and don't say you've forgotten, The trouble with you is you ain't been SQUATTIN'."
-- DALE CLARK, 1983
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