Salute To The Working Man

Salute To The Working Man
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On May Eleven ninety six, the boys were on a ride,

In Coquitlam for the May Parade, they rode in side by side.

The Harleys were all gleaming, washed and waxed just right,

Each rider had been spit shined too, polishing all night.
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The first ride of the season, the day to set the pace,

Performance is the key to it, the boys must maintain face.

Spectators lined the curbside, waiting patiently,

The Motorcycle Drill Team, was what they came to see.
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Mark Tonner, Riding Corporal, was on the leading bike,

All would take their cue from him, movements all alike.

Everything was perfect, the rain even went away,

A pre-ride survey had been done, not much more to say.
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The riders had all mounted, their trusty metal steeds,

Engines had been started, vibrations shook the weeds.

Anticipation growing, they were anxious for the start,

One more thing that must be done, before they could depart.
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The engines rumbled loudly, like thunder from the west,

Drill Team riders out to show, everyone their best.

A stop down near the podium, respect that they must pay,

To all the dignitaries, out there on display.
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They stopped their bikes precisely, they moved in perfect synch,

Stood there at attention, with barely time to think.

Snapped off a perfect hand salute, their timing off I fear,

For just one man was standing there, the Sanitation Engineer.
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PC 664 T.J. Gowdyk 96-05-20 (137)