The Bikers are Coming
The bikers are coming
The bikers are coming
Down the A21
Leather clad and helmeted
Sweating in the sun
Heroic figures
Some more so than others
A petrol headed
Band of biker brothers
Who’ll gather in bunches
And stand to admire
The curve of an exhaust
And the new season’s tyre
And then head for cafes
And load up on carbs
Perhaps wondering
Why you never see a SAAB
And we the pedestrians
The outsiders looking in
Imagine a world of hot metal
And suburban sin
Where biker molls
Hang out with hairy men
Who would like to be called
Deaths Head but are really Ken
And later they’ll leave
In a throbbing parade
Like a viking horde
Who came to invade
But left rather quickly
Just out for a lark
And frankly (and whispered)
All afraid of the dark.
John Knowles
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