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Captain Beaker - How many off-of's will be written here

23rd July 2008

The Night Before Morzine

T’was the night before Morzine, and I am stuck in my house
Not a Miggly was stirring, no ride planned tonight.

My bike all in order and ready to go,
Surely this Wednesday some Miggly’s will show.

21 Miggly’s nestled snug in their beds,
with vision of Downhills danced in their heads,
determined was I, to keep tradition alive
I rode to the Legion, for the ride that I strive
When from a distance, there rose such a clatter
When a stranger walked by and asked, “what’s the matter?”
When up to my left I saw such a flash,
A cyclist, I’m sure went by in a dash
The evening Sun shone, down Fwrrwm Road
Gave the lustre of evening to an object below
When, what to my wandering eyes should appear,
But a slight Miggly rider, in protective gear
Which he is not without, since his crash in a ditch
I knew in a moment it’s Storm trooper Rich.
More rapid than Beaker, his courses they came,
He whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, Farquar! Now, Dafydd! and finally Chrissie!
On Specialised most, but one on his Scotty.
Now off went the five, to the top of the woods,
Dash away riders dash if you could
As dry tracks are now, since the hurricanes fly,
When one of the five, met an obstacle high.
It was down through the Quarry, that Farquar he flew
For the second week running he was riding like poo!

And on I did ride, to give Chrissy the proof
That Farquar’s mech hanger, was hanging – the poof.
As we straddled our bikes, and turned them around,
Into the quarry, came peddlers abound.
only Two in number, no Farquar afoot
he would no longer be present on this evenings route;
Onward through Draethen, up Ochrwyth track,
We flew up the mountain, no need to look back,
The banter this ride was considerably weak,
As our thoughts were with riders, who were now fast asleep!
Admit it or not, the four of us here,
Would rather be travelling with you guys on Beer!
From the mast we descended, as quick as we can,
To get back to HQ and meet with the Clan.
Only one bound for Fronce, Jock’s out tonight
As pissed as a parrot, as he is scarred of the flight!!!
Crocket declared this, as he turned up late,
With Johnsy appearing for a drink with his mate.
All talk of the forthcoming French nights ahead,
And who’d be the weakest link and be first to bed,
The fancy dress sorted and songs in their heads,
There was more talk of drinking, than riding instead.
The four jealous homeboys, did not want to show,
Their disappointments, as not able to go!
Chrissie’s excuse was at best very lame,
As it was his own decision that kept him at home,
Rich would have gone, but had no full susser,
And Daf had no reason, but he’d miss his bruvver!
And I stuck in Machen, with all of our trails,
Just thinking of Morzine and the downhill’s you’ll fail!!

It is now I exclaim, as I fly out of sight,
Morzine’s OK, but Machen’s Just Right !!!!

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