Bike Fever

I must get out on the road again
On a bike all covered in rust
With a gallon of petrol in the tank
And an oil that I can trust.
I must ride up to the hills once more
And ear'ole round some bends
And let the hoist of a tightening curve
Give a thrill that never ends.
I must get out on the motorway
To eat up a hundred miles,
To feel the sting of the speed driven rain
Painting tears of joy on my smiles.

But the Ministry of Transport is ruining my life
If she does to the road and me
What a thousand years of foreign fleets
Have failed to do on the sea.
For the spirit of England is planted too
In the riders of two rolling wheels
As well as the sons of the rolling seas
Whose wrath the enemy feels.

And if our fleets are silent now
We riders will shout 'til you're deaf
And instead of our ships you will honour our clubs
United by our B.M.F.

I must go down to the club tonight
To Talk with the lads through the hours
We'll capture again the battles of old
And the vict'ries to come which are ours.

Inspired by Masefield