There she was a new cheechako.
Her dreams fulfilled, or so she thought so.
Her guide, Steve, who she's sure dislikes her;
Laughing as they hiked through the trees.
"Cheechako," he said, "let me tell you a tale, about our little, bitty mosquitoes from Hell."
She half listened to him smugly tell about some mosquitoes that came from Hell.
Her disbelief was hard to hide.
"Cheechako," Steve warned, "keep an eye out tonight."

They set up camp if you could call it that.
He just dug out a pit and threw down a mat.
Then without a fire he went to sleep.
The smile was smug on that sourdough's cheek.

The wind was crisp, the sun was bright.
She fought for sleep with all her might,
But, midget bombardiers buzzed near; zeroing in on her ears.
Their vicious bites would make her swell.
Initiation to mosquitoes from Hell.

When she awoke the battle was clear, with blood and smudged corpses in her hair.
To this day she smiles, when she can nail, a little, bitty mosquitoes from Hell.