Author Topic: Audax Poetry (Cont)  (Read 9181 times)

Audax Poetry (Cont)
« on: April 23, 2008, 10:33:48 pm »
Cont from here in the old place

To his Faffing Wheelmate

Had we but world enough, and time,
This faffing, partner, were no crime.
We could sit down and think which way
To fill our randoneering day;

An hundred years to check a map
Or fasten a Carradice strap;
Two hundred yet to finish cakes,
And thirty thousand for the brakes;

 But at my back I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Those mountains that reach to the sky.
This caf’s a fine and comfy place,
But don’t we need to pick up pace?

Now lets get going while we may -
We may get snapped for Arrivee.
Rather at once our time devour,
Than languish yet another hour.

Let us roll all our strength, and all
Our flapjacks up into one ball;
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life.
Thus, though it seems to be so hard
I may yet hand in my Brevet card.

iddu

  • Are we there yet?
Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #1 on: April 23, 2008, 11:01:45 pm »
The Ballard of Brian Chapman, 2002

“You’ll be 40”, she said,
“still thick in the ‘ed”
“What on earth are you
planning to do?”

“I know”, I replied, “10K K of
Audax ride – that’ll give you
quiet weekends too!”

So off we did write, and sign up
everything in sight, from the start
of the year right through…

Some cracking good rides,
under early year skies,
building fitness for rides to
come soon

Then Laurent he said,
“you know, thick in t’ed –
100’s don’t count for toffee”

“Ah well”, I sighed, “take it
all in life’s stride” – and started
counting anew…

A new plan was designed,
Accounting for each ride,
To reach the grand total –
phew!

Then deep personal distress,
Left Feb a complete mess, with
Thoughts all despondent and
Blue

But with insurance applied,
Some benefit derived;
“Mr Argos – new stead please
in nice violet hue!”

How we did shiver, through
Winters quiet glimmer, awaiting
Our kit shiny new.

Suddenly, Mr Prosser, that’s the fella,
Who’s buggered me calendar
Pulling 600K forward so soon.

A quick jiggle here,
A tickle over there
Whoosh – equilibrium again

As time passes by
It came, by and by
To ask M. Argos the question

On enquiring we cried –
“Twelve more weeks” he’d replied.
Well, you can guess the answer that got too.

So on we did pedal,
Our foot to the metal – then
Came a quiet call from you know who

“This steed you requested,
is all built and tested – ready and
waiting for you”

“Bugger off”, I exclaimed,
“you right royal pains –
I’m resting for a 600k testing”

So out came owd Yellow,
that trusty MTB fellow, kited
out, slicks, guards, dynamo new.

To Chepstow we went,
Those of insane bent
For a few hours kip, as you do.

Up for 6am start,
We gather and depart
Sailing northwards into the gloom

After 10k of ride
Glorious rainbow espied –
Should have known it’s a harbinger of doom

While stopping to cape
The other escape!
50k to catch ‘owd Jack again!

In light showers we ambled
Along quiet roads we gambolled
To first breakfast taken at Bronlys

Replenished & fed,
Through Rhyader we sped
Chasing the source of the Wye

The source of the Wye –
that’s easy my oh my.
It’s just hit you in the eye
falling from the sky.

On Plynlimon’s high brow
Turn right by the wet cow
Machynlleth to Dolgellau Doggy
Kings!!!

The rain in the sky,
Had long joined us by & by
As we fled Barmouth, Moifa Harlech
Snowdon too!

Where a git in a Volvo,
Drove through flood about so so
Not that one noticed, you know…

So soaked to the skin
Dripping and thin
Arrived at turnaround
Colour bright blue

My how we all shivered,
As we dripped over dinner,
And huddled round heaters
Chilled through

Kicked out we must go
Over Llanberis you know
No snow, but still
sopping wet through

Calamity – lights dimming
The dynamo jamming
By faint LEDs must ride through

Down from the pass
With brakes made of glass
Hypothermic at the end
Past caring what to do

Back through Beddgelert
Bill’n’Ben on alert
Laughing as we squelch through

Remember the left after Aberglaslyn
Pass, and don’t do like I do
A pain in the ass, as Porthmadog sped
Past – an extra 20K to do

So back over Sarn Helen,
to descend once again,
for 3rd breakfast at Doggy
Dolgellau Kings!!!

Where many that were tested,
had packed, laid down and rested,
sleeping the whole night through –
sensible buggers!

Deranged and dog tired
Stretched out and expired –
But only 40 minutes on a pew

Up we did get,
and Up we did go, but first –
a bit more food as you do.

On & On we did ride
Rain our perpetual guide
Through Newton to
Hereford – yay almost there!

Three hours in hand
Looking good for the plan
To finish without complications

OH! A466 we sighed –
bonked badly and died
Welsh Newton, a cliff face
In disguise

Monmouth High Street we cried
Full tears in the eyes
30K in one hour,
no reserve to fall back onto

With despair and broken heart
One packed in the dark
Found taxi and motored on home

26 of 40 hours it did rain
through 620K of pain
and in the end all in vain

Bitter and twisted
went for succour invested
Collecting new stead on the way home

What could one do
All our plans fallen through
Except –

The Bride of Brian Chapman 2002!

So back we returned
Permanent Brevet in hand
And set off once more
Into the blue

On new stead we rode
The same lanes of old
Speeding through Wales anew

At Tretower’s 2nd passing
A glorious happening
In brilliant sunshine too

A Kite in full hover
20 feet away, nae bother
a full 5 minutes
uninterrupted view

Onward we sped
To tea up ahead
At that place called
Dolgellau, Doggy, Kings!!!

A patter of rain was a pain
But it was nothing like the same
Only two hours did it shower,
So no worries ever came

Through Beddgelert once again
Hmmm, turn right, change of plan
To be over the pass before midnight

A quick stop at Plas Gwynant,
brief begging call for warning
Sorted – a bed for the night

So over t’pass we went,
To Menai was our intent
And gladly we reached it
‘bout midnight.

“Hey” said the BP lad, “where
you come from to be so glad”
“Chepstow” I replied, proffering
sandwich for price guide.

“Where you going” he enquired
“Chepstow”, that’s why I’m tired
Now you just know from the glance
They’re thinking thoughts askance!!

Onward we did wheel, to
Snowdon Ranger for to steal
By wardens kind permission
Drying room kip was our mission

A very nice man he must be
Bed, cake and pot of tea
Two hours did we slumber
Dawn 4:30 am we did wander

To Beddgelert once again
Well “Hi there Bill & Ben”
“Floobbleooblle it must mean,
‘Bill, it’s that lunatic again’”

Remember left turn after pass,
That last time was a pain in the ass
So over again Sarn Helen
To Dolgellau, for 7.

O bugger I, it’s Sunday
Only opens 7:30 on Mondays!
Mars bar & bottle of coke
150K stretch or broke…

Arrived at Newton well famished
Demolished 9/3rd’s of a sandwich
Then onwards we did go
To Hereford again you know.

Welsh Newton – where is thy sting?
In daylight you look like nothing
Over we glide your cliff face
As though in a state of grace

The evening drawing on nigh
Down Wye Valley from Monmouth slide
The sunlight dappling the leaves
As by Tintern we climb through the trees

Into Chepstow we strolled,
across Severn Bridge so bold.
To obtain that final stamp
YES – nailed the bugger at last!

So remember from this tale
while AUK’s are hearty and hale
It shows that quite plainly
They’re all Certifiable daily

Eye thank you…now let’s get out there and ride!
I'd offer you some moral support - but I have questionable morals.

Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #2 on: May 13, 2008, 09:34:31 pm »
Or to paraphrase part of Nuncio's marvell-ous contribution above:

"And on the flat bits, all the time they fear
Jon's laid-back chariot hurrying near ..."

The original poem can perhaps be summed up in two lines:

"Come Hell, high water, Sodom and Gemorrah,
Let's get shaggin' like there's no tomorrah ..."
The Kettwiesel Ripper turns his hand to upwrongs...

frere yacker

Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #3 on: May 13, 2008, 09:53:16 pm »
Dark cloud horizon
Snowdonia to my left;
No sleep until sunrise

Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #4 on: May 13, 2008, 09:55:18 pm »
There once was an Auk, named Spooner,
who arrived later, not sooner.
Rode all LELs
bus shelters, he'd dwell,
when the sky turned starry and lunar.

Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #5 on: May 13, 2008, 10:32:23 pm »
Or as his Mum used to say:

'Little John Spooner
Should have come sooner'

Salvatore

  • Джон Спунър
    • Pics
Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #6 on: May 14, 2008, 11:18:56 am »
Up the road there's a chap with a yo-yo,
Which goes up and down all a-glow-glow
But this gurner's no clown,
He's an auk of renown,
It's a young Steven Abs, Holy Cocoa!
Quote
et avec John, excellent lecteur de road-book, on s'en est sortis sans erreur

arabella

  • no se porque yo no lo se
Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #7 on: May 14, 2008, 10:33:56 pm »
who said to the auk
you shall ride on next Friday
to make mirth for a man
and for his pretty lady

'twas I said org (aniser)
who chose the laybys
with those major ascents
and the grit that grazes

with apologies to RS Thomas
In the dark, all views are the same.

Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #8 on: May 14, 2008, 10:39:59 pm »
There once was a bloke on a bike
Who decided he needed a shi*e
He went to a bush
And after one push
He emerged and turned R.

Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #9 on: August 29, 2008, 01:40:45 pm »

ODE  TO  A  STRONGER  RIDER

( in admiration of Strong Riders, of Mr Keats, and of his Ode to a  Nightingale)

My arse aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
   My sense, although of caffeine I have drunk,
And emptied rehydration fluids to my brains
   Just down the road, and felt not quite so sunk:
'Tis not through envy of thy flying group,
   But being so far up in a different class --
         That thou, lythe-legged vanquisher of hills
      On some ferocious slope
   Of hairpin bends and chevrons numberless,
      Canst yet chat freely in full-throated ease.

O, for a draught of redbull! that hath been
   Cool'd a long age in the chill-cabinn'd shop
(Tasting of stuff that makes my face turn green!
   And anyway there really isn't time to stop...)
O for a heart with strength to power this bike
   O'er all these hills against the pressing wind,
          With fortitude of mind and supple limb
       (And change my name to "Mike"?)
   That I might ride, and leave the rest behind,
      And with thee climb away 'cross yon horizon dim.

Ride far away, relax and quite forget
   What thou out on the front need never stand,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
   Of having merely seconds left in hand;
Where hotfoot burns the scarcely spinning toes,
   Where darkness brings on only further sorrow;
          Where NOT to think becomes the only way
      To beat the old despairs,
   Where riders cannot face another day,
      And vow to throw away their bikes tomorrow.

But  "NOT A RACE" !  So I will follow thee,
   Not sucked along by famous wheels and bold,
But on the wings of Self-Sufficiency,
   (For, truth to tell, those wheels I'd never hold!)
Already rearguard! Rouge my Lanterne bright,
   And sadly, though the moon is on her throne,
          Dense cloud cuts off her beneficial rays;
      And here there is no light
   Save what by Solidlights and Schmidt is shown
      Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.

I cannot read the routesheet though so fine,
   Nor see the signposts (when at last one's due),
But in embalmed darkness, guess each line
   Wherewith the Organiser sends me through
The hills, the meadows, and the mountains wild,
   Recalling routes I've followed through the dales,
          The Brevet Cymru, Cotswold Corker bold,
      And mid-May's eldest child
   The Bryan Chapman, winding up through Wales,
      At Menai Bridge to seek the Crock of Gold.

Darkling I pedal; and, for many a time
   I have been half inclined to simply pack,
Told my soft self it really is no crime
   To take into the train my wretched hack;
Now more than ever seems it best to stop,
   To cease before the midnight with less pain,
          While thou art at thine ease at Arrivee;
      Not ride on till I drop??
   I'd lose the Points! ... but I'd escape the rain...
      And do those jobs at home - the Better Way?

Thou wast not born to pack -  too strong and lean!
   No feeble protestations tread thee down;
The road I ride this passing night was seen
   Some hours ago by riders of renown;
Indeed this self-same road gave thee a path
   For rapid progress, though so far from home,
          Midst moor and mountain, golden fields of corn;
      A Road that oft-times hath
   Fired imaginations, flying to the foam
      Of perilous seas in faery lands forlorn.

Forlorn! That word tells just the way I feel
   As I go on and on by my sole self!
Adieu! The fancy, though so strong and real
   Can't get me round this ride, deceiving elf!
Adieu! adieu! Thy whirring wheels recede
   Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
          Up the hillside; and now you're taking toll
      Of those whose erstwhile speed
   Did seem to them a very happy dream.
      Fled is that Rider;  To the Next Control!



         



Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #10 on: September 03, 2008, 09:43:26 am »

An (almost) shameless bump. In case anyone else would like to read the previous.

Or any of the previous ones (all highly appreciated!).

Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #11 on: September 03, 2008, 10:20:57 pm »
v. good Tonyh.  I've read your version and Keats' side by side (no I didn't remember the original by heart).  Some parts of it obviously needed very little tweaking -  there must be a long-distance cycling subtext to the original - but still that must have taken a while to write.

Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #12 on: September 04, 2008, 08:52:52 am »
Thanks Nuncio!

there must be a long-distance cycling subtext to the original

Yes. Perhaps a spot of Audaxing would have helped him live longer?

And a Mr Tennyson was another likely AUK, surely:

"I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees; all times I have enjoy'd
Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone"

("Ulysses")     http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Ulysses_(Tennyson)

Anyone going to rewrite that one? (An advantage being that it doesn't have to rhyme. I gave up on quite a few in "Nightingale". Wonder how long Keats took.)

LittleWheelsandBig

  • Whimsy Rider
Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #13 on: September 07, 2008, 12:34:10 pm »
Why do we ride in the rain?
Folks must think us insane
Cold clammy feet
Likewise my seat
Yet tomorrow we'll do it again
Wheel meet again, don't know where, don't know when...

Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #14 on: September 10, 2008, 12:50:12 am »
An audaxing lad they called Hicksey
Was fettling nude on his fixie,
 But the tip of his cock, it
 Got caught in the sprocket,
And now he's renamed himself "Dixie".
The Kettwiesel Ripper turns his hand to upwrongs...

Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #15 on: September 10, 2008, 12:23:59 pm »
And audaxing fixer, Mal Volio,
Once read in a Shakespeare folio
 To wear yellow and smile,
 Which he did for a mile,
While chatting up Nancy Dell’Olio.
The Kettwiesel Ripper turns his hand to upwrongs...

Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #16 on: September 10, 2008, 11:09:26 pm »
An adventurous couple from Gwent
Made love on a back-to-back bent;
 Said she: "There's no knowing
 If I'm coming or going!"
Said he: "I just came while you went."
The Kettwiesel Ripper turns his hand to upwrongs...

Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #17 on: September 11, 2008, 11:16:11 am »
There’s one thing, in lycra, that’s iffy –
To get an inappropriate stiffie.
 If you feel yourself bulge
 Try not to divulge,
And cover it up in a jiffy.
The Kettwiesel Ripper turns his hand to upwrongs...

Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #18 on: September 11, 2008, 09:26:10 pm »
A Speedmachine rider called Larry
On the French Ride was constrained to tarry -
 Bedbound, I infer -
 By a bad crise de coeur;
There's twins now, and one is called 'Arri.

Sorry Dave, but I simply never believed the 'official' explanation. ;) ;D
The Kettwiesel Ripper turns his hand to upwrongs...

Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #19 on: May 26, 2010, 11:45:58 am »

From Rupert Brooke's well-known study* of Audaxing:

"God! I will pack, and take a train"


* The Old Vicarage, Grantchester

Billy Weir

Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #20 on: June 17, 2011, 07:26:26 pm »
I cycled lonely as a cloud
That rides on high o'er ben and glen,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of worldly audax men;
Along the road, in search of rest,
Climbing and descending towards Brest.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Towards the coast of Brittany:
A thousand saw I at a glance,
Fill the roads of western France.

The crowds on road sides cheered; but they
Out-did the local crowds in glee:
A poet could not but be proud,
In such a friendly happy crowd:
I gazed--still dazed--but little thought
What joy the ride to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure grows,
And dances with our French heroes.

Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #21 on: June 18, 2011, 03:58:33 pm »
 :)  :)  :)

LEE

Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #22 on: June 18, 2011, 04:45:59 pm »
It seems that an Audax bike handles
much better with brown socks and sandals
and there's really no need
for lycra, there's tweed,
or LED's when there are candles

Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #23 on: June 18, 2011, 05:52:20 pm »
I cycled lonely as a cloud
That rides on high o'er ben and glen,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of worldly audax men;
Along the road, in search of rest,
Climbing and descending towards Brest.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Towards the coast of Brittany:
A thousand saw I at a glance,
Fill the roads of western France.

The crowds on road sides cheered; but they
Out-did the local crowds in glee:
A poet could not but be proud,
In such a friendly happy crowd:
I gazed--still dazed--but little thought
What joy the ride to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure grows,
And dances with our French heroes.

BRILLIANT  :thumbsup:
Behold the turtle - he only makes progress if he sticks his neck out.

Re: Audax Poetry (Cont)
« Reply #24 on: December 19, 2014, 11:13:22 pm »
The Ballard of Brian Chapman, 2002

“You’ll be 40”, she said,
“still thick in the ‘ed”
“What on earth are you
planning to do?”

“I know”, I replied, “10K K of
Audax ride – that’ll give you
quiet weekends too!”

So off we did write, and sign up
everything in sight, from the start
of the year right through…

Some cracking good rides,
under early year skies,
building fitness for rides to
come soon

Then Laurent he said,
“you know, thick in t’ed –
100’s don’t count for toffee”

“Ah well”, I sighed, “take it
all in life’s stride” – and started
counting anew…

A new plan was designed,
Accounting for each ride,
To reach the grand total –
phew!

Then deep personal distress,
Left Feb a complete mess, with
Thoughts all despondent and
Blue

But with insurance applied,
Some benefit derived;
“Mr Argos – new stead please
in nice violet hue!”

How we did shiver, through
Winters quiet glimmer, awaiting
Our kit shiny new.

Suddenly, Mr Prosser, that’s the fella,
Who’s buggered me calendar
Pulling 600K forward so soon.

A quick jiggle here,
A tickle over there
Whoosh – equilibrium again

As time passes by
It came, by and by
To ask M. Argos the question

On enquiring we cried –
“Twelve more weeks” he’d replied.
Well, you can guess the answer that got too.

So on we did pedal,
Our foot to the metal – then
Came a quiet call from you know who

“This steed you requested,
is all built and tested – ready and
waiting for you”

“Bugger off”, I exclaimed,
“you right royal pains –
I’m resting for a 600k testing”

So out came owd Yellow,
that trusty MTB fellow, kited
out, slicks, guards, dynamo new.

To Chepstow we went,
Those of insane bent
For a few hours kip, as you do.

Up for 6am start,
We gather and depart
Sailing northwards into the gloom

After 10k of ride
Glorious rainbow espied –
Should have known it’s a harbinger of doom

While stopping to cape
The other escape!
50k to catch ‘owd Jack again!

In light showers we ambled
Along quiet roads we gambolled
To first breakfast taken at Bronlys

Replenished & fed,
Through Rhyader we sped
Chasing the source of the Wye

The source of the Wye –
that’s easy my oh my.
It’s just hit you in the eye
falling from the sky.

On Plynlimon’s high brow
Turn right by the wet cow
Machynlleth to Dolgellau Doggy
Kings!!!

The rain in the sky,
Had long joined us by & by
As we fled Barmouth, Moifa Harlech
Snowdon too!

Where a git in a Volvo,
Drove through flood about so so
Not that one noticed, you know…

So soaked to the skin
Dripping and thin
Arrived at turnaround
Colour bright blue

My how we all shivered,
As we dripped over dinner,
And huddled round heaters
Chilled through

Kicked out we must go
Over Llanberis you know
No snow, but still
sopping wet through

Calamity – lights dimming
The dynamo jamming
By faint LEDs must ride through

Down from the pass
With brakes made of glass
Hypothermic at the end
Past caring what to do

Back through Beddgelert
Bill’n’Ben on alert
Laughing as we squelch through

Remember the left after Aberglaslyn
Pass, and don’t do like I do
A pain in the ass, as Porthmadog sped
Past – an extra 20K to do

So back over Sarn Helen,
to descend once again,
for 3rd breakfast at Doggy
Dolgellau Kings!!!

Where many that were tested,
had packed, laid down and rested,
sleeping the whole night through –
sensible buggers!

Deranged and dog tired
Stretched out and expired –
But only 40 minutes on a pew

Up we did get,
and Up we did go, but first –
a bit more food as you do.

On & On we did ride
Rain our perpetual guide
Through Newton to
Hereford – yay almost there!

Three hours in hand
Looking good for the plan
To finish without complications

OH! A466 we sighed –
bonked badly and died
Welsh Newton, a cliff face
In disguise

Monmouth High Street we cried
Full tears in the eyes
30K in one hour,
no reserve to fall back onto

With despair and broken heart
One packed in the dark
Found taxi and motored on home

26 of 40 hours it did rain
through 620K of pain
and in the end all in vain

Bitter and twisted
went for succour invested
Collecting new stead on the way home

What could one do
All our plans fallen through
Except –

The Bride of Brian Chapman 2002!

So back we returned
Permanent Brevet in hand
And set off once more
Into the blue

On new stead we rode
The same lanes of old
Speeding through Wales anew

At Tretower’s 2nd passing
A glorious happening
In brilliant sunshine too

A Kite in full hover
20 feet away, nae bother
a full 5 minutes
uninterrupted view

Onward we sped
To tea up ahead
At that place called
Dolgellau, Doggy, Kings!!!

A patter of rain was a pain
But it was nothing like the same
Only two hours did it shower,
So no worries ever came

Through Beddgelert once again
Hmmm, turn right, change of plan
To be over the pass before midnight

A quick stop at Plas Gwynant,
brief begging call for warning
Sorted – a bed for the night

So over t’pass we went,
To Menai was our intent
And gladly we reached it
‘bout midnight.

“Hey” said the BP lad, “where
you come from to be so glad”
“Chepstow” I replied, proffering
sandwich for price guide.

“Where you going” he enquired
“Chepstow”, that’s why I’m tired
Now you just know from the glance
They’re thinking thoughts askance!!

Onward we did wheel, to
Snowdon Ranger for to steal
By wardens kind permission
Drying room kip was our mission

A very nice man he must be
Bed, cake and pot of tea
Two hours did we slumber
Dawn 4:30 am we did wander

To Beddgelert once again
Well “Hi there Bill & Ben”
“Floobbleooblle it must mean,
‘Bill, it’s that lunatic again’”

Remember left turn after pass,
That last time was a pain in the ass
So over again Sarn Helen
To Dolgellau, for 7.

O bugger I, it’s Sunday
Only opens 7:30 on Mondays!
Mars bar & bottle of coke
150K stretch or broke…

Arrived at Newton well famished
Demolished 9/3rd’s of a sandwich
Then onwards we did go
To Hereford again you know.

Welsh Newton – where is thy sting?
In daylight you look like nothing
Over we glide your cliff face
As though in a state of grace

The evening drawing on nigh
Down Wye Valley from Monmouth slide
The sunlight dappling the leaves
As by Tintern we climb through the trees

Into Chepstow we strolled,
across Severn Bridge so bold.
To obtain that final stamp
YES – nailed the bugger at last!

So remember from this tale
while AUK’s are hearty and hale
It shows that quite plainly
They’re all Certifiable daily

Eye thank you…now let’s get out there and ride!

Amazing, was this 91?  Note the last sentence everyone......  ;D
Mad Jacks JSM/  Hills and Mills to be continued in 2021