[sung to the tune of Oh Suzanna, lyrics by Joanne and Chuck Blair]
Oh, he came from San Francisco
With his laptop on his knee,
He was headin' out for Washington
The U.S.A. to see.
Astride his faithful cycle
He pedaled like a man,
He forded mighty rivers
As he sped across the land.
He conquered Mt. Skykomish
And Orondo's grueling six,
And the only one who saw the Dam
Was our old pal, Mark Schmick.
He had to burn the midnight oil
Alone within his tent,
Creating a computer book
To help him pay the rent.
[chorus]
Mark, we'll miss you
But we wish you lots of luck
And we hope Macmillan makes a killin'
And pays you lots of bucks.
He often e-mailed Linda
And his many friends back home,
His website was a'tingle
With the tales of where he roamed.
His burned his fingers making toast
But never shed a tear,
He liked Barilla sauce the most
And pasta he held dear.
At night he prowled the campsite
A' lookin' for some juice,
His power cord held in his hand
Alert for bear and moose.
He mourned the death of Suds McSwine
A pig he never met,
He sent the mournful news abroad
Along the Internet.
[chorus]
Mark, we'll miss you
In our memory you'll remain
May the wind be always at your back
And your backside free of pain.