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Bike
Mike Stools
Oh, knickerless woman on a saddleless bike
The smile on your face tells me just what you like.
I watch you each day as you enjoy your treat,
A long freewheel ride down the main cobbled street.

You smile at the baker, his dough promptly rises.
The postman's large packet contains no surprises.
The butcher goes indoors - he must beat his meat
The coal man knows just what to stoke to make heat.

And off for his lunch, you wave at the banker
Who'll cry "Mine's a large one" at the Crown And Anchor.
The milkman looks happy, see how his face beams.
He knows the best place to deliver his creams.

The fireman's hand is grasped tight round his pole
He knows his large chopper can bang any hole.
His helmet is hard as his hose starts to squirt.
Could he have guessed what goes on 'neath your skirt?

Oh panti-free lady, you do not feel shame,
For in your small world these men don't know your game.
But under the drain is where I get my thrill.
I work in the sewers, and can see through the grill.

And I've told them all, who work in this street
The newspaper boy, PC Plod on his beat
They all know your secret, but only I see,
And each day the drains take ten extra c.c.



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