So mounting life we’ll screech and ride and burn
careering round the country without lights
we’ll roll our bikes get up and spit and learn
and dash on through the dark dragging our rights.
When we are younger helmets guard our thought
as down those lethal hills we shift and fly
our heads are strong our muscles flexed and tort
as hairpins bend and buzz us round and by.
Chicanes defied we leap our faith and nerve
and pay no heed to riders left or felled
unhindered by the boulders and the curb
past flags and friends as though we are propelled.
When whipped and lapped by attitude we swear
at step and crossroads, brake and all but chunder;
footfaulting in our sudden wheel of care
we grip the bars to stop us going under.