loose clumps of humanity
breathing in the breeze
around the plains of York!
Our wholesome courage (get up and go!)
and passion (keep on riding)
whizzing around the hazy fields
of hay-bleached grass and sparkling greens
along those quiet, country roads.
“Oh what a ride!”
With shining rays and solar breeze
around we went… It was a tease.
In gorgeous, garish gear
we strutted on our bikes
so free – it was a dream.
And soon the drinks did beckon
as tired legs and aching jaws,
did move on for a rest.
In the garden of The Shoulder of Mutton we sat.
Then lunch did loom inside –
the fish and chips were mine.
From Appleton Roebuck did we ride, agreed and free!
So on the road again
a few bikes wobbled, a few just ran –
there was a finish line.
And oh … it was so grand, le grand départ.
On and on the road did gleam,
in a silent destiny, veering outwards
along the hard, chipped, Roman soldiers’ march.
And back to York we roamed,
heading in, heading out
determined to get round.
Then home again was called.
A golden sun lit up the dusk –
swooning and laughing:
Twas indeed a hoot!”