To anyone who was bullied, little, belittled, nagged, forced to comply, To ALL motorcycle enthusiasts, riders, owners, likers, wanters, dreamers and schemers Heres a poem I wrote down many years ago that recently surfaced while going through an old cabinet I finally unpacked! I think you might enjoy it! The Mitchells were a lovely lot, as lovely as could be They lived in such a pretty house, the nicest you could see They went to church each Sunday,and Guides and Cubs and Gym Everything was really good, until the birth of little Jim Hed roar his tricycle about, at play school was ill-bred He was nasty to the other kids and punched them in the head! He wouldnt play with Teddy and he broke his pretty toys And stirred shit at all the other kids, especially the boys Hes just a throwback, said his Mum and shed a silent tear His father said The boys a hood , but were stuck with him I fear His Gran said nothing, but she thought. well well just wait and see Hes full of piss and vinegar but he looks okay to me Old Grandma never talked at all, they all thought she was dumb She wasnt though,she did it coz she couldnt stand Jims Mum His Mum and Dad just tore their hair and prayed to God each night That Jim would go to Sunday school, so he would turn out right Hes got good brains, the teachers said, but wont amount to much He never works, is rude to girls and answers back and such The single secret was just this,( It isnt even funny) Jim wouldnt work for school reports, but worked like mad for money! His secret and his only dream was of a bike hed seen A glossy magic monster, in a shiny magazine He couldnt read the name of course, since he was only two But once he saw the photo, he knew what he would do When dreary grown ups asked young Jim what he would like to be The picture of that Harley was all that he could see When asked by Father Xmas what he wanted in a shop He said A Harley Davidson! and really got the chop! His Mum and Dad were quite upset and belted him at times But little Jim, his heels dug in, never thought it was a crime He got alot of part time jobs and never worked at school He dreamt all day and did his time, all thought of him a fool The years went by, Jims cash piled up, the other kids all grew But little Jim stayed little and only ever topped five-two His teenage years were terrible, its a good thing he was tough And the other kids laid shit on him, they couldnt get enough But little Jim would smile alot, and sometimes he would say Stuff you all! Im little now, but Ill be a man one day! And the cash piled up and up and up, a really brave amount It was little Jims big secret, his private bank account He turned 18, still little, in height but not in heart And when he checked his money he had enough to start And all the years of shit hed copped just slipped away that day When Jim withdrew the full amount and headed off to play The lovely Mitchells sat at home, as peaceful as can be Watching lovely, wholesome things like Neighbours on tv When in that quiet suburb, there came a fearful roar A screech of brakes, then clumping feet and thumping at the door What can it be? cried Mrs Mitchell, leaping to her feet The Mitchells and their Grandma rushed quacking to the street And it wasnt just the brand new bike that gave them such a shock Their tiny son laid rubber and went tearing round the block! His Gran, who never said a word for 20 years then spoke I have not lived in vain! she said, Youre a darling little bloke! Im really proud and happy Jim, As much as I can be Your Grandpa was a biker...youre good enough for me! But it wasnt even Grandmas words that put it up them all Beside the bike a 5 foot kid...was standing 10 feet tall. xxx
Posted on: Tue, 15 Jul 2014 03:59:13 +0000
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