The day before Christmas I went for a ride
'Twas looking like rain but beat staying inside.
I took my bike Blue with the clunky mudguards
Not great on the hills nor a subject for bards.
Slowly I pedalled up up and away
(No flying for me on this nondescript day)
When all of a sudden this whippet shoots by
The cheek of the man did elicit a sigh.
The race was now on for the top of the hill
Though he didn't know it,
a race it was still.I favoured his odds but there's naught I can do
When gauntlets are thrown don't you pick them up too?
I kept to his pace in a promising start
Though he was all legs I am madly all heart.
I know a poor workman will blame his poor tools
But cyclists who race with one gear are such fools.
My lungs became raw, disaster I courted
Lacking inhaler, they wouldn't be sorted
(Not asthma as such, 'less you count exercise-
induced, sets me coughing, as common sense dies.)
The summit drew near with me closing the gap
To pull off this feat would set feather on cap.
I reached deep inside for whatever was left
To fail when so close would sore leave me bereft.
At last at the top we both crossed finish line
The goal is to win but a tie is just fine.
"You're just what I needed" I said, and it's true
The fool on the hill is not there for the view.
I paid for this nonsense, but it matters not
If you don't have spirit than what have you got.
I will not claim greatness in this little tale
Only that it rhymed till the end without fail.
