This Sort of Thing...


The Fall of the Mountain King



Faster than faeries

Faster than rockets

So fast that my eyeballs

Hit the backs of their sockets


Flying down York Road

On my new Raleigh Chopper

Stability went AWOL

And I came a cropper


Two knees and two elbows

And most of my chin

Almost entirely

Denuded of skin


Looking back at that day

I was only fourteen

With a hole full of mad dreams

Where my brain should have been


I was rubbish at football

Couldn’t sing, act or dance

So my big hope of stardom

Lay in the Tour de France


I would buy a real bike

With the winning proceeds

But to be King of the Mountains

I had to practise in Leeds


As for flying down hills

On that lethal blue Chopper

I’d have done just as well

With my sister’s Space Hopper


So if you have a great plan

Think it through in your head

Don’t end up like me

Feeling partially dead


The Fall of the Mountain King

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