Lemkurt Lament
.
Ken Lemkurt of Commercial
Drive, Mountain Bike Patrol,
Was riding all through
District Two, calls his only goal.
Dropping into Three Twelve
Main, he had to have a rest,
His legs were getting wobbly,
sweat dripping down his chest.
.
His bike was neatly stashed
away, his helmet off his head,
Reports that needed writing,
could wait for him instead.
He visited with all the
guys, stuck working there inside,
Grabbed a drink and had
a snack, before heading back outside.
.
Highly trained in riding,
he really is quite skilled,
For riding round the streets
of town, never getting killed.
His bike a fine tuned instrument,
balance reigns supreme,
For this he was selected,
a member of the team.
.
When his break was over,
his bicycle retrieved,
He mounted up, and headed
out, exhaustion now relieved.
Thinking now of demonstrating,
the skill he has to ride,
He started for the doorway,
heading for outside.
.
A minor little obstacle,
the steps down to the street,
Deciding to ride down them,
he barely moved his feet.
The steps were thinking
otherwise, Ken then took a spill,
Slid down on his bottom,
to the sidewalk lying still.
.
Arms and legs akimbo, bike
a twisted wreck,
Ken lay at the bottom,
a blush went up his neck.
Next time you go out riding,
check out all the deals,
Cap's Bicycle I'm sure
will sell, a pair of training wheels.
.
PC 664 T.J. Gowdyk 95-09-18
(125)