Randy Dandy

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The ducklings were just waiting, to go out for a ride,
They clustered round the mother duck, standing to one side.
When Randy Kellins came downstairs, to get upon his bike,
The perfect opportunity, to do a trick that they would like.

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My own bike in for service, thought Randy with a laugh,
So he settled for another one, the bike of Richard Schaaf.
He checked the bike so cautiously, for any sign of grime,
Then looked down at his wristwatch, glancing at the time.
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He mounted very carefully, hair neatly combed in place,
Glasses placed so perfectly, the stern look on his face.
His helmet bright and shiny, his boots the perfect shine,
Down to the creases in his pants, perfectly in line.
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He was thinking all was flawless, a picture to behold,
Now it was time to do his stuff, his plan could now unfold.
He calmly fired up the bike, for the ducklings by the door,
The sound was quite distinctive, a Harley's throaty roar,

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He calmly brought the bike upright, the stand was kicked away,
Put his feet upon the floorboards, on this his fateful day.
He rode forward oh so casually, thinking all is cool,
I'll make these brand new traffic men, all stand back and drool.

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He poured the coals into the bike, leaned over for the curve,
Too bad that Harley's floorboard, caused such a minor swerve.
For Randy Kellins met the wall, of the underground garage,
Causing fits of laughter in, his would be entourage.

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PC 664 T.J. Gowdyk 90-05-11 (76)
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