So they set out at night in the cold aired november
Twas a great night, a good one, one to remember
Rushing through trees from the claudes high perched house
even with lights we probably ran over mouse(s)
but see none we did, we only saw rabbits
quick as a flash they hid, thats their habit.
Down to the corner right under the noses
Of veyriers ‘flics’ at the border we goes
Just four of the finest with balls all afire
To ride on at night, to start rolling our tyres
And roll them we did, until some of us started
To fall down big holes, yes he’s big hearted
Cos his light on his head was large but not bright
And to see down that hole he couldnt, not right
But down he did go, with his balls really bulging
And Husky did fall, well, actually went plunging
The sound that he made when landed in anger
Did make us all cringe, was he in danger ?
No he is not, he bounced right back up
Smiling and laughing and calling, ‘whassup’
On we did pedal for a while past the river
Avoiding more holes, dont fall in you’ll shiver
And then missiles bike, it started to squeak
It started to moan and to crack and to shriek
In horrible language, that made him go wild
Oh shit, somethings up, theres a gremlin inside
That buggery bearing in back it is dying
Oh shit, tonite, I’m no longer flying.
So wobbling and squeaking and cracking I rode
With my « not-so-good » ‘dale. The others did goad:
"Aha theres a ‘dale with something quite wrong
Ride a Rocky you dickhead, they are quite strong"
Well I’m joking. They didn’t, 'cos even with noise
They really know ‘dales are the bizness, right boys??
So anyway, back on the track that we rode on to get there,
Claude messes up and lands near the river
Lift up your wheel, you newbie, you idjit,
The way to ride roots is with « presence » now, innit ?
Two down by now, only one more to go,
cos’ I never fall. They ALL go too slow.
Cos its a well known real fact, the faster you go
centrifugality keeps you up, dont you know !!
Now the wibbly, wobbly wambly back wheel
Is really not stable, its begining to feel
Like a piece of crap, like a ride upon jelly
That bloody back bearing is really quite smelly.
Onwards and upwards and downwards we go
The one still to fall is now planning his show.
The missile takes off on the road to the car
He has to take care, even if it not far.
And just then the Papy, who planned it quite well
Falls on his knee in the gravel, slides far and does yell
« Missile, you missed it you blithering twit
I saved it for you and you wasted it, you git. »
« Well if you will fall where the missile is not
Its your own damn fault that you missed your slot »
So anyway now to cut to the chase
We get in the cars, for to eat we will race
Upwars to showers and salmon and wine
Glorious food, yes on that we did dine.
So an evening of riding and eating with friends
is a great one to repeat, it should be a trend
and now that my story is almost to end
how can I finish my email to send ?
The moral of the story, yes I can bring forth :
« Not riding with ‘dales makes you fall ‘orf ! »
