Discussion
By me, with apologies to Alfred Tennyson
============================
Charge of the Six Bikers
HALF a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All on the dual carriageway
Rode the six bikers.
"You're late!," was the boss's cry;
Their's not to tell him no,
Their's not to be too slow,
Their's but to twist and go,
Onto the dual carriageway
Rode the six bikers
Cars to right of them,
Vans to left of them,
Trucks in front of them
Beep'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with bumper and wheel,
Boldly they rode and well;
Into the thick of the traffic,
Into the mouth of Hell,
Rode the six bikers.
Flash'd all their headlights bare,
Flash'd all at once in air,
Lighting the truckers there,
Charging a fleet, while
All the drivers wonder'd:
Plunged in the exhaust smoke
Fiercely the queue they jumped;
Strong was the headlamp-light:
Making the convoy reel
Shaken and dampened.
Then they rode in, but not,
Not all on scooters.
Cars to right of them,
Vans to left of them,
Trucks in front of them
Beep'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with bumper and wheel,
They that had filter'd so well
Rode thro' the evening traffic,
Half a league back again,
Up from the mouth of Hell,
All that were not going drinking,
Left of six bikers.
Honour the brave and bold!
Long shall the tale be told,
Yea, while my tea goes cold--
How I rode home.
============================
Charge of the Six Bikers
HALF a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All on the dual carriageway
Rode the six bikers.
"You're late!," was the boss's cry;
Their's not to tell him no,
Their's not to be too slow,
Their's but to twist and go,
Onto the dual carriageway
Rode the six bikers
Cars to right of them,
Vans to left of them,
Trucks in front of them
Beep'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with bumper and wheel,
Boldly they rode and well;
Into the thick of the traffic,
Into the mouth of Hell,
Rode the six bikers.
Flash'd all their headlights bare,
Flash'd all at once in air,
Lighting the truckers there,
Charging a fleet, while
All the drivers wonder'd:
Plunged in the exhaust smoke
Fiercely the queue they jumped;
Strong was the headlamp-light:
Making the convoy reel
Shaken and dampened.
Then they rode in, but not,
Not all on scooters.
Cars to right of them,
Vans to left of them,
Trucks in front of them
Beep'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with bumper and wheel,
They that had filter'd so well
Rode thro' the evening traffic,
Half a league back again,
Up from the mouth of Hell,
All that were not going drinking,
Left of six bikers.
Honour the brave and bold!
Long shall the tale be told,
Yea, while my tea goes cold--
How I rode home.
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