Category Archives: ER Poetry

ER Poetry

Sydney traffic chaos

When there’s something strange
On the thoroughfares
Who ya gonna call?
The Captain

When the traffic strife
Takes them unawares
Who ya gonna call?
The Captain

(Wierd riffy bit)

I ain’t ‘fraid of no car……

(Wierd riffy bit)

I ain’t ‘fraid of no car……..

If you get up late
And you miss the “bus”
Who ya gonna call?
The Captain

And the roads are choked
And the drivers fuss
Who ya gonna call?
The Captain

(Wierd riffy bit)

I ain’t ‘fraid of no car……

(Wierd riffy bit)

I ain’t ‘fraid of no car……..

Ode to Anna

From Dora on behalf of the peloton

Oh Anna, we will miss you Anna
Not least ‘cos thou art like a Bananna
All goodness on the inside
Brightly coloured and a little dotty on the out

Oh Anna, don’t go Anna
Like a desert misses the rain
Like the Muggles miss the train
Like Schleck misses Luigi
Like we all love the GG
Like Stratos misses Blue Steel
Like the grate misses Ravi’s wheel
We will miss you Banana Peel

Like Norman misses the long way
Like LDF misses race day
Like Goaders loves a High-Viz
Like Flash loves a quick wizz
Like Wilson misses Heavy Metal
Like Mondays miss a soft pedal
Like Brownie loves a new spanner
Like Boolay loves an old Bandana
We will miss you Anna Bananna

Like Jenny misses good nutrition
Like Half loathes the human condition
Like Chippo misses a perv
Like a car door misses a swerve
Like Spicey loves a long chat
Like the B1ses hate a double flat
Like Dragon misses Jeff Wiggle
We will all miss Anna’s giggle

Like Lunchie misses dessert
Like the 4 Horses put on ‘the hurt’
Like Navigatius misses a halo
Like Comet loves a ‘no show’
Like Drastic misses a fling
Like his arm misses a sling
Like Magoo fails to miss anything
We will miss you Ms Bananna

Come back soon.

Two Little Boys

Two little boys had two little toys
Easy Riders both of course
Gaily they played each summers day
Up a mountain named after a dead horse
One little chap then had a mishap
Passing a cramping Saint Nav
Wept for his toy, then cried with joy
As his young Easy Rider mate said

Did you think I would leave you crying
When there’s room on my wheel for two
Pedal up here, Danny Boy and don’t be crying
I can go just as fast with two
When we grow up we’ll both be Foundation Members
And our bicycles will not be toys
And I wonder if we’ll remember when we were
Two little boys

Long hours past, “undulations” ridden so fast
Bravely they cranked away
Flat tyres popped loud and in the sag wagon
Wounded and dying lay
Up goes a shout, Saint Nav finally crashes out, after admittedly giving it his all
the previous day
Cathie crests the rise and flogs all the boys, categorically winning the day
And then Simba to Danny says…

Did you think I would leave you dying
When there’s room on my wheel for two
Suck back another gel Danny, we’ll soon be flying
I can go just as fast with two
Did you say Danny I’m all a tremble, perhaps it’s the carbo load
But I thinks it’s that I remember when we last did the Fluffer with Big Goads

Do you think I would leave you dying
There’s room on my wheel for two
Climb up this Godforsaken hill Danny, we’ll soon be flying
Back to the crystal cranks so true
Can you feel Danny I’m all a tremble, perhaps it’s because in a coupla weeks
We’re going to feel even worse than we do now when we have a crack at Three Peaks!

Charlotte Pass

Twas the night after Dead Horse, when all through the house,
None of the ER’s were stirring, (just Cathie checking the radar at 3am?!).

The ER’s were nestled, all snug in their beds,
Visions of the “undulations”, playing over and over in their heads.

The steeds were all parked, in the pool room with care,
In the hopes that come morning, our legs would still be there.

Come breakfast we united, Cathie and Briony in knicks,
Everyone else in jeans and jumpers, assuming the girls’ heads were full of bricks.

For the mountain was dark, the rain came and went,
The radar warning of mischief, cancellation text messages hurriedly sent.

Outside the weather threatened, but four stepped to the plate,
For Drastic, Zlatko, Briony and Cathie, the desire to conquer Charlottes Pass was simply too great.

The four gathered at the Petrol Station, (extremely good looking) support crew in tow,
Wondering what the mountain held, whether it be rain, wind or possibly snow.

Briony held on as best as she could, but off the back she eventually fell,
Leaving Zlatko, Cathie and Drastic, to fight for the title of the first to conquer hell.

Following Briony’s journey, was a navy blue four-wheel drive,
Piloted by the holy Saint Nav and Saint Nick, providing the encouragement to ensure she would arrive.

Briony kept climbing, and climbing, and climbing,
And then did some more climbing, and then there was some new climbing.
(35km of climbing for those following along at home)

Counting down the chain bays, riding through the mountain moors,
The pain in her legs, not made mention of in any of PD’s brochures.

Through Perisher and the pinnacle was in sight! Just a final 2km over the ridge,
When a noise caught Briony’s attention.. NOT ANOTHER FLAT…. YOU FU&@#^! BIT#!

Saints Nav and Nick, had proceeded to the peak,
Leaving Briony alone, adding to her poorly timed punctures streak.

Down flew Cathie, and a newly kitted out Dave,
Dave stopped to lend assistance, Cathie continued with a wave.
(But it was freezing and she did apologise as she flew past!)

With no tools on hand, Briony held her wheel in the air,
Saints Nav and Nick arrived, with Drastic’s wheel as a spare.

The final little kilometres, were done at some pace,
Briony arrived at the top – a new trophy for the case.

The decent was unreal, fitting reward for the climb,
The thought of finally being able to take of wet and cold socks – simply sublime.

 

Thanks to the support crew – Nick and Mark who followed me (later accompanied by Drastic)

Laurie and Dave in the other vehicle.

Everyone who bailed on Sunday missed a fantastic ride!!

Best of luck to all for 3 Peaks and thanks to PD for organising an epic weekend

Andy’s Song

…… a little country and western.

Thinking ‘bout you baby
As the train left Wynyard Station
Packed with people, my only care
Was the chafing and abrasion

Coz you grind me baby
You know you do
But I can’t wait til I’m on top of you
Gonna ride you like a bike
Coz that’s what you are.

You can keep your car
I’ve got my Dogma
As true as a love can be
And you know that she’ll be by my side
As I climb up Allambie

She’s my reason for living
My reason for loving
And she gets me out of bed
And there’s nothing like the joy I feel
When we’re giving each other West Head

Coz you grind me baby
You know you do
But I can’t wait til I’m on top of you
Gonna ride you like a bike
Coz that’s what you are.

 

To be continued…….

Songs of the OTP #2 – The Hard Men of the North

The Hard Men of the North
(An homage by Le Bullet)

The Hard Men of the North
We daily venture forth
Through the bitter cold of the winter days
And the stifling heat of the summer blaze
Except of course unless it rains…
And then we stay in bed.

The Hard Men of the North
The lesser trail we blaze
The One True Path, The Manly Way, The Rollercoaster, The Rhodes Roubaix,
We’ll do whatever it takes to stay…
Away from the office.

Ride on, ride on
Our hairs are short, but our routes along.

The Hard Men of the North
Somebody has to be
We brave the traffic and breathe the fumes
We all have exotic noms de plume
That speaks of our masculine virtues…
Except for the bloke called Winkie.

The Hard Men of the North
Performing unenhanced
We’re tough and lithe and mean and lean
And smart and clever and witty and keen
And modest and brave and strong and we…
Like to wear tight clothes.

Hooray, hooray,
To the second best way to start the day.

The Hard Men of the North
The Hard Men of the North
The Easy Riders are here to stay
“All for one” you know what they say
And I don’t mean that in a gay way…

The Hard Men of the North!

Songs of the OTP #1 – A Song with No Name

A Song with No Name………about Cycling.
Another homage by Le Bullet sung to the tune of “A Horse with No Name” by America.

On the first part of the journey
I was lookin’ at all the hills
There were utes, and smells and trucks and cars,
There were G O T F R’s.

The first one I met was a man named DT
And he told me would set me free
Follow me son past the BOF we will run
And the riding will be easy.

You see I ride to the office on a cheap steely frame
Pedalling all of the way
By Scaramanga you can’t remember your name
If Drastic’s in the mood for dishing out pain
la la la  la lalala   la la  la  la la.

After 2 days on the One True Path
I started to get short of breath
After three days on the North Shore Run
I was dreaming bout the Hills of Death
And the story is told of the riders who rolled
Every morning, it does in my head.

I’ve ridden up the back door bucketing rain
Giggling all of the way
On the Back Door you won’t remember your name
Because Chippo’s in the mood for dishing out pain
la la la  la lalala   la la  la  la la.

After nine days I let the bike roll free
’cause my legs had turned to Jelly
I started to splutter
So we called it a Flutter
And rode another 70k’s.

My mind was free by the B & T
Only memories remained
So BT writes it every day
And it never ever sounds the same.

You see I’ve ridden through the beaches every couple of days
And now I think know the way
On the Flutter you don’t remember your name
Because Clutters’ in the mood for dishing out pain
la la la  la lalala   la la  la  la la.

A Song with No Name………about Cycling.
Another homage by Le Bullet sung to the tune of “A Horse with No Name” by America.
On the first part of the journey
I was lookin’ at all the hills
There were utes, and smells and trucks and cars,
There were G O T F R’s.
The first one I met was a man named DT
And he told me would set me free
Follow me son past the BOF we will run
And the riding will be easy.
You see I ride to the office on a cheap steely frame
Pedalling all of the way
By Scaramanga you can’t remember your name
If Drastic’s in the mood for dishing out pain
la la la  la lalala   la la  la  la la.
After 2 days on the One True Path
I started to get short of breath
After three days on the North Shore Run
I was dreaming bout the Hills of Death
And the story is told of the riders who rolled
Every morning, it does in my head.
I’ve ridden up the back door bucketing rain
Giggling all of the way
On the Back Door you won’t remember your name
Because Chippo’s in the mood for dishing out pain
la la la  la lalala   la la  la  la la.
After nine days I let the bike roll free
’cause my legs had turned to Jelly
I started to splutter
So we called it a Flutter
And rode another 70k’s.
My mind was free by the B & T
Only memories remained
So BT writes it every day
And it never ever sounds the same.
You see I’ve ridden through the beaches every couple of days
And now I think know the way
On the Flutter you don’t remember your name
Because Clutters’ in the mood for dishing out pain
la la la  la lalala   la la  la  la la.

ER Haiku

aye up, leafless boughs
drip cold hazards from nowhere
path lighter ayup

———————————————–

Brighter, one forays
Bar staff, opening eyes downwards
Deflects from mince pies

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Hues of spring
The horse, bolted too late
Welcome in her arms