At Mont-Sainte-Anne, the final round,
Wheels spin fast, hearts start to pound.
Through rocks and roots, they twist and fly,
Chasing glory beneath the sky.
The mountain roars, the crowd’s alive,
Riders pushing, edge to strive.
One last run, no room for fear,
Victory’s call, so loud and clear.
In the dust and thrill, they take their stand,
The final race, the hero’s land.
Mont Saint Anne, the crown they seek,
Legends born on downhill’s peak.
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