2013-09-01 – Poets Ride

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  • American impersonator!

  • Daljit Nagra - Darling & Me!

    Di barman's bell done dinging
    So I phone di dimply- mississ,
    Putting some gas on cookah,
    Bonus pay I bringin'

    Downing drink, I giddily
    Home for Pakeezah record
    To which we go-go, tango,
    For roti - to kitchen - she rumba

    I tell her of poor Jimmy John,
    In apron his girlfriend
    She bring to pub his plate of
    Chicken pie and dry white

    Potato! Like Hilda Ogden
    Heeya, eat your chuffy dinnaaah!
    She huffing off di stage
    As he tinkle his glass of Guinness

    We say we could never eat
    In publicity like that, if we did
    Wife advertisement may need
    Of solo punch in di smack

    I pull her to me - my skating
    Hands on her back are Bolero
    By Torvill and Dean. giggling
    With Bhangra arms in air

    She falling for Lino, till I
    Swing her up in forearm!
    Darling is so pirouettey with us
    For whirlwind married month

    That every night, though by day
    We work factory-hard, she always
    Have disco of drumstick in pot.
    Hot, waiting for me

  • Dal^ is a great poet. I could ask him if he wants to join us on the ride...

  • I may not be riding with you
    But this day I will not miss
    Expect to see me along the route
    Greeting you all with a kiss

    Xxx

  • Dal^ is a great poet. I could ask him if he wants to join us on the ride...

    Dal is a genius wordsmith. I love his use of immigrant english.

  • Dal^ is a great poet. I could ask him if he wants to join us on the ride...
    Do it!

    I may not be riding with you
    But this day I will not miss
    Expect to see me along the route
    Greeting you all with a kiss

    Xxx
    I'd better send you the route then, ey? :) xx

  • I'll send Dal a message with a link to this thread. (I used to work with him in a school)

  • ^ Lovely! Also looking forward to seeing you David.

  • A most enjoyable recce today with YAL (apart from one bloody scary Oh Shit! moment involving an incompetent driver turning in on us).

    You're all going to love it!

  • Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode,
    The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road.
    A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire,
    And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire;
    A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread
    The night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head.
    I knew no harm of Bonaparte and plenty of the Squire,
    And for to fight the Frenchman I did not much desire;
    But I did bash their baggonets because they came arrayed
    To straighten out the crooked road an English drunkard made,
    Where you and I went down the lane with ale-mugs in our hands,
    The night we went to Glastonbury by way of Goodwin Sands.
    His sins they were forgiven him; or why do flowers run
    Behind him; and the hedges all strengthening in the sun?
    The wild thing went from left to right and knew not which was which,
    But the wild rose was above him when they found him in the ditch.
    God pardon us, nor harden us; we did not see so clear
    The night we went to Bannockburn by way of Brighton Pier.
    My friends, we will not go again or ape an ancient rage,
    Or stretch the folly of our youth to be the shame of age,
    But walk with clearer eyes and ears this path that wandereth,
    And see undrugged in evening light the decent inn of death;
    For there is good news yet to hear and fine things to be seen,
    Before we go to Paradise by way of Kensal Green.

    Is Kensal Green on the route?

  • I'm in! Never got in on one of these before; I'll be the one pushing my bike up Swain's Lane...

  • One of my friends just reminded me of his favourite poem by John Betjeman, and kindly passed on to me a version of it read by the poet himself and set to music, with a video starring Eric Morecambe!

    John Betjeman - Indoor Games near Newbury - YouTube

    In among the silver birches,
    Winding ways of tarmac wander
    And the signs to Bussock Bottom,
    Tussock Wood and Windy Break.
    Gabled lodges, tile-hung churches
    Catch the lights of our Lagonda
    As we drive to Wendy’s party,
    Lemon curd and Christmas cake

    Rich the makes of motor whirring
    Past the pine plantation purring
    Come up Hupmobile Delage.
    Short the way our chauffeurs travel
    Crunching over private gravel,
    Each from out his warm garage.

    O but Wendy, when the carpet
    Yielded to my indoor pumps.
    There you stood, your gold hair streaming,
    Handsome in the hall light gleaming
    There you looked and there you led me
    Off into the game of Clumps.

    Then the new Victrola playing;
    And your funny uncle saying
    “Choose your partners for a foxtrot.
    Dance until it’s tea o’clock
    Come on young ‘uns, foot it feetly.”
    Was it chance that paired us neatly?
    I who loved you so completely.
    You who pressed me closely to you,
    Hard against your party frock.

    “Meet me when you’ve finished eating.”
    So we met and no one found us.
    O that dark and furry cupboard,
    While the rest played hide-and-seek.
    Holding hands our two hearts beating.
    In the bedroom silence round us
    Holding hands and hardly hearing
    Sudden footstep, thud and shriek

    Love that lay too deep for kissing.
    “Where is Wendy? Wendy’s missing.”
    Love so pure it had to end.
    Love so strong that I was frightened
    When you gripped my fingers tight.
    And hugging, whispered “I’m your friend.”

    Goodbye Wendy. Send the fairies,
    Pinewood elf and larch tree gnome.
    Spingle-spangled stars are peeping
    At the lush Lagonda creeping
    Down the winding ways of tarmac
    To the leaded lights of home.

    There among the silver birches,
    All the bells of all the churches
    Sounded in the bath-waste running
    Out into the frosty air.
    Wendy speeded my undressing.
    Wendy is the sheet’s caressing
    Wendy bending gives a blessing.
    Holds me as I drift to dreamland
    Safe inside my slumber wear

  • Hi Laura. Delighted you can join us. Don't worry about the climb - we're heading up towards Hampstead (rather than Highgate) so Swain's isn't on the route, unless you want it to be...? ;)

    Hey jaw - Kensal Green is a bit further West than we're going on this ride - maybe next time!

  • I would like to do this and it would
    be first ride thats not between home
    and work, so should be fun. But alas
    my in-laws are in town, so my
    commitment to the ride is a bit
    touch and go...i'll have to be a maybe
    for now.

  • 1.Miss Mouse
    2.YAL
    3.mands
    4.BN
    5.skydancer (has no answer) +1
    6.HairyChris (lowly musician, lousy lyricist, great beard)
    7.alexanderb
    8.Stonehedge (piss artist)
    9.Hairnet
    10.anothersam
    11.Jayson (crap poet, interested in London & history, if that helps), lol

  • ^^ Lovely bit of free verse there, Sammy - juxtaposes nicely with your potential lack of freedom that weekend.* ;)

    We'll have no talk of being crap, Jayson. Looking forward to having you on the ride.

    *Someone studied literature far too long :/

  • Walking tires you;
    Buses are crap;
    The Tube perspires you
    While minding that gap.
    Cars stick in jams
    Boil cabbie in kettle;
    Cycling sculpts gams;
    You might as well pedal.

    1. Miss Mouse
    2. YAL
    3. mands
    4. Oz ( possibly )
    5. BN
    6. Lynx (is a poet, but didn't know it)
    7. skydancer (has no answer)
    8. HairyChris (lowly musician, lousy lyricist, great beard)
    9. alexanderb
    10. Stonehedge (piss artist)
    11. Hairnet
    12. anothersam



    We must love one another or die. Some poet said that.

    Long time no see Sam! look forward to seeing you!

  • We knew no harm of Norman kings but plenty bastard hills
    The Sussex countryside that coddles even as it kills.
    From Crystal Palace dinosaurs to Hawker Hurricane,
    To pyramids in honour of the incompletely sane.
    You and me and tonyme, the span was all too brief;
    The day we rode to Hastings-town by way of Hampstead Heath.

  • Greetings and love to each and every one
    Do check this ride, it looks like fun
    The route will be good and go to some great places
    If you're new on here you'll meet some new faces
    Do turn up, you'll be glad you did
    This plug for the ride ends with 'do a skid....'

  • ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ I know I'll get my poetic coat....

  • is this actually about 'the great poets in Ldn' or is it just the acronym?

  • Actual poets with actual cycling - be good to see you there Ian!

    Man this POETS day thing is killing me slowly

  • ^^ Great poets, who lived in London (though not exclusively so). We'll visit key landmarks that inspired them, their houses, graves and more. You coming Ian?

    ^^^^ Tim, thanks for bumping but sorry you cannot make it.

  • Poets Ride

    Poor American Lover
    Overdoing things, lamenting
    Efforts will be rewarded
    Time will pass as always
    Sun will shine on riding rhymers

    Roads will lead us with our mouse to
    Inns where bards have waited
    Delighting in some pretty sounds
    Enjoying London and its crowds

    (Opps-When Conker mentioned acronym skydancer read acrostic)

  • Thats two new words Ive learnt.....acronym and acrostic....... this ride is starting to sound well 'Posh'......but me and me mate conks can stay at the back and take the proverbial.....

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2013-09-01 – Poets Ride

Posted by Avatar for youramericanlover @youramericanlover

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