Full Moon Minus 1

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 ! »