An Ode to Brett Cecil's Thighs

O! Thighs of Brett Cecil! Mighty stanchions of our hero!
Thou art both rigid and pliable,
Providing both a sound, supportive base,
And dynamic energy for the day's errand.

Pat Tabler might be tempted to say
That thou art "So strong".
(Though such a thing is so often offered forth by the Blonde Banterer
As to be utterly inconsequential.)

Rather, perhaps, thoust are unwavering,
Or unyielding, (though perhaps only somewhat yielding,
What with that one night in Fresno, in which so much was yielded.)

No matter! Thou art true and constant,
Serving as the very base of the man,
Who is occasionally derelict
In his use of your generous capacity for virtuous brawn.

(Because he, who tends to you with squats and lifts -
And all manner of calisthenic -
Will often neglect you, and show undue favour towards
Dubious shoulder, or enigmatic arm.)

Dost he not recognize the folly of merely standing on magnificent pillars,
Using them primarily as a pivot,
When the authoritative brawn within those bedrock limbs
Is the very footing of his future prosperity?

Thighs of Brett Cecil: We implore you
To remain stalwart, staunch and stout.
Hoist the full heft of the man with resolute conviction,
And provide him with the robust mechanism
To once again gleam like a gem
On this, the preeminent pitching plane.