The Dragon Rallyists

In the worst of the winter's weather,
Torrential rain and snow and gales,
Comes the Rally of the Dragon,
And we all set off for Wales.
Pack the primus and the kettle,
On the bike you gladly fling
Tent and sleeping bag and blanket,
All tied on with bits of string.

Soon you come into a valley
Where the mud is thick and deep,
Cold grey mountains blot the sunlight
And the road is bad and steep.
Toads and lizards throng the swamplands,
Unknown creatures stalk the night.
Skeletal trees point gaunt fingers
To the Dragon Rally site.

When the night creeps down the valley
Engulfs the campers and the site,
Then they gather in their thousands
Round the bonfire's blazing light.
Though the cold claws at their being,
Though the rain is lashing down,
They don't even seem to notice,
They don't even wear a frown.

In the morning see the campers
Wonder where their spirits went,
Burned to cinders by the bonfire,
Wrung from out of sodden tent.
Still they laugh, these Dragon campers,
They don't really mind the gales.
They must all be bloody crackers,
They keep coming back to Wales.

Martin Wyatt
Motorcycle Feb 1976


Rallyists for a raiding party into Wales to collect Holy Dragon Badges

As this rally is strictly pre-booking with a limit on numbers, the Editor is compiling a list of hardened riders who wish to keep up a very old Phoenix tradition and attend. Rally dates have not yet been published and will probably be early in February.

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