Knudson Kampout

(I usually adamantly refuse to spell C-words [as in, any words that start with C] with a K to match or for emphasis [I also usually avoid any establishments or services that to, i.e., Kuttin' Korner, KoolPak, etc.] but when my brother Brian sent out the first round of invites for our summer family weekend, he used the dreaded double-K, so my hands are tied.)

Not much to say about the family campout, except the obvious:

At Krescent Bar near Kwincy, the Knudsons kame to kamp
(for fear that on the West Kaskades, it might just be too damp)
Klear water and kool mountains were kwick to satisfy
With korn, kobbler, and non-K-foods, krackling on a fire nearby.
I krested a hill on my bicycle, and krossed the Kolumbia river,
and though temps were high as Kelvins, the water made me shiver.
Kroquet and sno-kones kept us busy, along with lots of rest
And I was reminded, again, that the kooky Knudson Klan is the best!