Nigel was a four-wheeled hater,
feeding up the carburetor
- of his brand new black and silver motorbike.
Said it gave a sense of freedom,
and we didn't really need 'em
- fussy leather suits and helmets and the likes
He waited until suns had set,
deliberately he'd forget
- to cover up his scrawny bag of bones
Rode naked as the day is long,
completing every bare furlong,
- feeling every bump from every fallen stone!
Moors with trees and mossy mounds,
became his chosen riding ground,
- and he revved his biker's glory to the hilt
No windscreen there to hang things cubic,
windswept hair and all things pubic
- feeling how a Scotsman proudly wears his kilt!
Such a feeling to be free,
and for the whole wide world to see
- nature joining with the beauty of machines
Tomorrow he would make his point,
and would doubly annoint
- could a human oily body be obscene?!
So he took a slow commute,
in his grown up birthday suit
- tying back and tucking under things that dangle
But in this mode that he preferred,
a sirens' shrill was clearly heard
- he had to look at things now from a different angle!
Hard he kicked and rode away,
in the naked light of day
- there were crimes in life he'd never ever deem
Though such a liberating sight,
could only fulfill joy at night
- and moon the moon in motorbike head-beams!
The next night came - and he was laughing
(though certain bits of him were chafing!)
This dusty pink cloud racing towards he......
Vroom! Vroom! Vroom! My God! He spied her,
a two-wheeled Lady Godiva
- giving it the very best of Delta - V
So, the pair grew old together,
and only in the kinder weather
- they'd ride over moors in old butt-naked glee
He nut cracked, she nipple surfed,
both for better or for worse
On two wheels or future hacker should it be!