Untitled

Damaged Duckling

Bob Munro, The Mother Duck, was acting as a guide,

Teaching five new traffic men, the proper way to ride.

Heading for the P.N.E., through Nanaimo and McGill,

When sadly for the ducklings, Paul Ellis took a spill.

The road was wet and greasy, when he went to make the turn,

Instead of going round it, he was seen to crash and burn.

He hit the broadside of a van, that was coming round the curve,

It all occurred so quickly, he could not even swerve.

The Harley lying on its side, Paul upon his back,

Debris was scattered everywhere, the ducklings in a pack.

Bob had stopped his own big bike, went running back to Paul,

To check on his condition, after such a nasty fall.

The first words that were uttered, as he lay there in the rain,

"I think I tore my dink off!" God, I'm in such pain!

Words to make the blood run cold, of every male in town,

The thought of such an injury, sends shivers up and down.

But at the clinic, Paul received, news both good and bad,

His male equipment had survived, he still could be a Dad.

The pelvis had been broken, there is even a bright side,

When all has healed sufficiently, Paul will learn to ride.

But first Paul, change your call sign, Nine Five Eight must go,

It seems to draw the accidents, as Art Chin could let you know.

Someday over breakfast, he will tell you, if you treat,

He had three, while using it, and was "swept" right off his feet.

The big thing to remember, as you climb back on that "horse",

Is despite the painful injury, things could have been much worse.

Besides you get the "Danger Pay", for the two days that you rode,

Don't spend it all in just one place, two bucks is quite a load.

This poem is not to ridicule, but to bring the duckling cheer,

As he lies there in the hospital, so early this new year.

Remember too, some good advice, learned from my traffic days,

The side that's shiny, must stay up, its advice that really pays.

PC 664 T.J. Gowdyk 89-01-28 (59)