Stopping By Woods On a Bro-y Evening

Whose tires these are I think I know.

Gear stored deep in his woods, this bro

Ain’t home to catch me squatting here

Flipping tractor tires in snow.

Some lesser bros would think me queer,

Training without hardbodies near.

Sans gym or salary to make,

I must hulk up before New Year.

I give the kettlebells a shake.

These harnesses I have to take;

How sick I’d look pulling my Jeep,

Calves so defined you’d think them fake.

Balls cold, I’ll drive to mom’s asleep.

But first, core and bicep upkeep,

And six more sets ’fore I carb up,

And six more sets ’fore I carb up.