More Haste Less Speed
One of my memories is tinged
it's one I've recalled time and again.
A week off work, my first holiday.
I set off to Colchester, the very first day.
I’d cycled there several times before,
a good hours ride sixteen miles or more.
A time saving notion came to my mind,
I'd get close to a lorry, and hang on behind.
Things went well, the first
part of the trip,
but when turning a corner, I made a slip.
The lorry went one way, my bike the other,
a bad situation, I couldn't recover.
I hung on to my bike, as long as I could,
I hoped he’d slow down, it was no good.
Dragged along, half a mile or more,
my wrists hurt so much, my toes were so sore.
What was best to do, I just
I'd really no choice, I just had to leave go.
I felt no pain, as I slid on the ground.
the lorry was gone, when came 'round.
I longed to lay there, for the rest of the day,
but I didn't want people to find me that way.
My shoes were worn through, and the tips of my toes.
I really panicked, when I felt for my nose,
As I groped over my face, I
could feel nothing there,
The loss of feeling in fingers, the cause of that scare.
I'd scraped the flesh off the backs of both hands,
and made a real mess of my holiday plans.
My treasured watch hung in bits on my wrist,
and they were both sprained, to add to the list.
At a nearby farm they washed the blood from my face.
I asked to look at my my nose, they refused just in case
It might make me feel worse,
but how it looked I'd not care.
I just needed convincing that my nose was still there.
I was taken to hospital, and patched up by the Doc.
limping home through the town, I felt a real crock.
Two bandaged knees, torn holes in my clothes,
and a wide strip of plaster that covered my nose.
Both hands bound like boxing gloves, left arm in a sling
my bandaged peep toes, were the fashionable thing.
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