With my aching, bulgy thighs,
You may splash me with the muddy dirt
But still, like Brad, I'll ride.
Does my carlessness upset you?
Why are you beset with zoom?
'Cause I ride like I've got oil wells
Pumping me from here to Frome.
Just like loons who like runs,
With the GPS as guide,
Just like Hoops’ springtime high,
Still I'll ride.
2 comments:
Not looking this up though I am so tempted. It's Maya Angelo I think.
Oh, well, there goes my chance to think on it. Rick just looked it up. Stupid Google. But I got the poet.
Still I Rise.
And are we talking of a bike here? That's my guess.
Actually, Ione not only came up with the author's name, but also that the first line ends with 'history'. After that it was easy to find the poem.
I think this is you Emma, although "bulgy thighs" is a bit unfair.
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