bobbymac
02-19-2007, 10:51 PM
On a prairie truck stop table
is scratched the name of a local fable, Black Jack MaGee, a modern day knight
who rode his 'cycle' near the speed of light.
The high prairie roads, as straight as a die
were made to measure, for his bike to fly.
The man and machine looked one and the same.
The toothless old git was quite insane.
From the oily bandana to the raggedy jeans.
From the road-rashed bomber, to the eyes that gleamed,
the toothless old git was just what he seemed,
a two wheeled hellion, out, living his dreams.
MaGee, five foot two, the same across,
a custom built low-rider was his awesome hoss.
Six cylinders wide, and a fat rear tire
the smoke would billow, like cow-chips on fire.
Front wheel in the air, and a wave to all.
he was gone down the road, having a ball.
Swift Current to Regina, way less than an hour,
MaGee was the closest thing to Cold Fusion Power.
The Hi-way patrol cringed at the scream of his pipes,
they had nothing to touch him, he was soon out of sight.
Way too fast for the camera shutter,
all the Cops could do was sit and mutter
about the toothless old git with the eyes that gleamed,
who owned the road...or so it seemed.
The Truckers at the caf's all knew MaGee.
He stopped, now and then, for a burger and tea.
He parked out back, so as not to be seen
by the men in uniform who worked for the Queen.
From where he came, or where he went,
no one ever got a whiff of his scent.
A ghost, a trucker once said,
sent from hell to raise the dead.
But it was hard to believe that MaGee was as said,
the slap on the back, the toothless old smile,
you knew he was alive...mile after mile,
a little fat man on a C.B.X.
with bow legs, and a Harley vest.
He came thru. like one o' the best.
Like a lawless old bandit,straight out of the west.
From Vidora to Dauphin, Lloydminster to Vassar,
no one had known anyone faster.
A toothless leer would crack his face
when another cop dropped out the race.
The six open pipes sticking out o' the rear
was heavenly music to the crazy man's ear.
The screaming wail as the tach. hit red
was proof to all, MaGee was not dead.
At one hundred and ten he began to grin,
at two hundred and ten, a laugh set in.
He'd wail thru. Plunkett, Burr and Humbolt
scorching the black-top like a summer thunderbolt.
There he'd turn west, towards the 'Toon
hoping to burn a Mountie by noon.
A change of direction
at the circle connection,
would bring him thu. Bradwell, Allen and Zelma,
there to rest up, with a lady named Thelma.
Then, While he'd tend to his trusty steed
the lady, Thelma, would fix him a feed.
Sloppy eggs, soft bacon and well buttered toast
the toothless old varmint would gum it, and boast
of how many Horsemen he'd put to the test
and how, as always, he'd come off best.
There wasn't a Cop this side of the sun
that MaGee and his steed couldn't out run.
When the sun rose the following day,
he'd suck down his porridge, and be on his way
to find new black-top, and bait the devil.
To run with the wind, down the straight and level.
Bob.M. 10-oct-97. Was sitting here with nowt to do and this came along.lol. Styled on Robert Service.
is scratched the name of a local fable, Black Jack MaGee, a modern day knight
who rode his 'cycle' near the speed of light.
The high prairie roads, as straight as a die
were made to measure, for his bike to fly.
The man and machine looked one and the same.
The toothless old git was quite insane.
From the oily bandana to the raggedy jeans.
From the road-rashed bomber, to the eyes that gleamed,
the toothless old git was just what he seemed,
a two wheeled hellion, out, living his dreams.
MaGee, five foot two, the same across,
a custom built low-rider was his awesome hoss.
Six cylinders wide, and a fat rear tire
the smoke would billow, like cow-chips on fire.
Front wheel in the air, and a wave to all.
he was gone down the road, having a ball.
Swift Current to Regina, way less than an hour,
MaGee was the closest thing to Cold Fusion Power.
The Hi-way patrol cringed at the scream of his pipes,
they had nothing to touch him, he was soon out of sight.
Way too fast for the camera shutter,
all the Cops could do was sit and mutter
about the toothless old git with the eyes that gleamed,
who owned the road...or so it seemed.
The Truckers at the caf's all knew MaGee.
He stopped, now and then, for a burger and tea.
He parked out back, so as not to be seen
by the men in uniform who worked for the Queen.
From where he came, or where he went,
no one ever got a whiff of his scent.
A ghost, a trucker once said,
sent from hell to raise the dead.
But it was hard to believe that MaGee was as said,
the slap on the back, the toothless old smile,
you knew he was alive...mile after mile,
a little fat man on a C.B.X.
with bow legs, and a Harley vest.
He came thru. like one o' the best.
Like a lawless old bandit,straight out of the west.
From Vidora to Dauphin, Lloydminster to Vassar,
no one had known anyone faster.
A toothless leer would crack his face
when another cop dropped out the race.
The six open pipes sticking out o' the rear
was heavenly music to the crazy man's ear.
The screaming wail as the tach. hit red
was proof to all, MaGee was not dead.
At one hundred and ten he began to grin,
at two hundred and ten, a laugh set in.
He'd wail thru. Plunkett, Burr and Humbolt
scorching the black-top like a summer thunderbolt.
There he'd turn west, towards the 'Toon
hoping to burn a Mountie by noon.
A change of direction
at the circle connection,
would bring him thu. Bradwell, Allen and Zelma,
there to rest up, with a lady named Thelma.
Then, While he'd tend to his trusty steed
the lady, Thelma, would fix him a feed.
Sloppy eggs, soft bacon and well buttered toast
the toothless old varmint would gum it, and boast
of how many Horsemen he'd put to the test
and how, as always, he'd come off best.
There wasn't a Cop this side of the sun
that MaGee and his steed couldn't out run.
When the sun rose the following day,
he'd suck down his porridge, and be on his way
to find new black-top, and bait the devil.
To run with the wind, down the straight and level.
Bob.M. 10-oct-97. Was sitting here with nowt to do and this came along.lol. Styled on Robert Service.