Ode to a Bicycle
I’m your little bicycle
Would you like to ride me?
Think of all the fun that we can have
Once you’re astride me
We’ll get rained upon in England
And sunned upon in Spain
And when I get a flat
I’ll let you pump me up again
I’m your little bicycle
Britney is my name
My handles all curvaceous
And my famous racing frame
I’ll go any speed you want
But slow is much the best
Just sit there and enjoy yourself
Leave me to do the rest
I’m your little bicycle….
According to Al Gore
All climate change is cyclical
It’s what God made us for
No motor cars or farting cows
No nasty Co2
An open road our highway code
New morning, me and you
You never know what’s round the bend
Or over every hill
You never know how life will end
Until it does... until…...
So take me where wild Lycra grows
The chains of freedom ringing
And tell me jokes and stroke my spokes
And set my sprockets singing
I’m your little bicycle
A fella’s perfect date
Always bright and beautiful
Never tired or late
I know you’ll want to mount me
And my forks can take it fine
All day, all night, it’s quite all right
You choose: your pace or mine.
I’m your little bicycle
A racy little thing
I love it up the mountains
Where the air is cold and thin
And descending just like Senna
With a rocket up my bum
And you puffing like a buffalo
They’ll wonder what we’ve done
I’m your little bicycle
I’ve got ambitious pedals
Let’s be Olympic champions
Let’s go and win some medals
So come on, what you waiting for
Jump on and have a go
Grease my chain and couple up
I’m dynamite you know
I’m your little bicycle
You called me ‘Special Eyes’
You said you loved my colour
I was perfect, just your size.
I’ve even got a metal bell
Sounds just like a parrot
But I’m faster than a racehorse
And you’ll never need a carrot
I’m your little bicycle
I’m light as air, I’m ally
Dance me to the woodwind
Of a silver moonlit ballet
Hold me tight and guide me
Where the music never stops
Don’t talk about it, do it
Or we’re going to miss the shops
I’m your little bicycle
Standing in a shed
I watch the spiders, bats and owls
While you’re tucked up in bed
My tyres are flat, my chain is slack
My clusters stuck on slow
I’m rusty as a pair of shears
My gears? We’ll never know
I’m your little bicycle
I used to be maroon
You called me Queen Amphetamine
I flew you round the moon
What I was, still is my friend
And what I am is yours
Please bring my twilight to an end
And open up these doors.
With thanks to Andrew Malim, who wrote the poem after his wife Susanne bought a bike then left it in a shed at home – a perfect candidate for our Big Bike Revival!
