Poetery in motion.

[mx250]

Bumper McGunn was a four-stroke bum, half crazed by the thumper’s fun.
From Jilliby to Dunlop Lea, he rode ‘em one by one.
Now he sat in the pits, bike home in bits, hile his life took one hell of a slumper,
And his wild eyes gleamed as he schemed and dreamed
To ride the perfect thumper.
   Oh, ride the perfect thumper, Bumper, ride the perfect thumper.
   If you wait it out and you don’t sell out, you may ride
   The Perfect Thumper.

He crouched out of the way and he waited all day till the Sun gave way to the moon,
And his legs grew cold and he grew old and wrinkled like a prune.
And the years rolled past and the bikes grew fast and the powerful two strokes stayed.
But he sneered at ‘em all, saying, “One day you’ll fall; I’m waiting’
For the Perfect Thumper”.

He was sleepin’ in his Ford when he woke to a roar as thunder shook the ground.
‘Twas the KLX, and it had valves, oh so round!
And he stared at the head as his face went read, then touched it with a trembling hand
And knew it was true blue, and a change would soon cross the land.

It was 10” high, forks tall as the sky, the colour of a two dollar bill.
And two strokes crumpled beneath its thump, and mountains became mare hills.
It deadlt power was seen from the tower, not a two stroke was left alive.
And high on the seat, boots back on his feet, was Bluey hangin’ five.
He hit the top of the hill, exhaust sounding shrill, at a thousand miles an hour.
And as he wiped out, you could hear him shout, as he rode to that heavenly bike dump.
“Hey hi dee hi. I’m glad to die – I’ve rode
The Perfect Thumper.
 

ADB MAY/JUNE 1980

[pancho]

 ONYA Graeme

[caps 999]

what an add