Poetry, Pictures and the Republic of Manitobah Cyclocross from September 21, 2013

                      The Charge of the Cross Brigade.

          With apologies to Alfred Lord Tennyson and,

                   The Charge of the Light Brigade)

                 Half a lap, half a lap, half a lap onward,

          All round the Portage Park raced the Cross Riders.

                         “Forward the Cross Brigade!

                       “Charge for the line.” they said.

             All round the Portage Park raced the Cross Riders.

              Cowbells to right of them, cowbells to left of them,

                 Cowbells in front of them jingled and jangled.

                             There’s not to reason why,

                              There’s not to quit and cry,                                                   

                  There’s but to do or die. Noble bike racers

           Through the mud bog they splashed, slipping, and sliding.

                 Some of them even crashed, recklessly riding.

          

            Cowbells to right of them, cowbells to left of them,

               Cowbells in front of them jingled and jangled.

                                 Oliver made a break,

                                 Everyone chased him.

                              They wouldn’t let him go,

                                  As he began to slow,

                                Quickly they caught him.

             Cowbells to right of them, cowbells to left of them,

                Cowbells in front of them jingled and jangled.                         

            Three of them led the way, oh what a glorious day!

                On foot up hill they raced shoulder to shoulder

                 Where is the Wiley one? “Left in the dust.” they say.

                              “He’ll never catch us now,

                                 He’s getting older!”

             Cowbells to right of them, cowbells to left of them,

               Cowbells in front of them jingled and jangled.

                           Bravely they rode, and well,                       

                       Until the last lap bell 

                       Solemnly sounded.

                           Over the gravel they skid and they rattle,

                          Who’ll be the winner of this bloody battle?  

                  Cowbells to right of the, cowbells to left of them,

                     Cowbells in front of them jingled and jangled.

                   Down off the hill they raced, onto the gravel,

                   Round the last corner and sprint like the Devil

                 Willem was first by three lengths it was reckoned.

                  Chris on his damaged bike made a brave second.

                         Oliver came in third, gallantly trying.

                    Here comes the Wiley One, looks like he’s dying!

               Cowbells to right of them, cowbells to left of them,

                  Cowbells in front of them jingled and jangled.

                             When can there glory fade?

                             Oh the wild sprint they made

                               All the world wondered

                                Honour the Cross Brigade

                                    Gallant bike riders!

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