Instead of the abbey
A man troubled by drink
And who knows what else
Crashes his motor bike
Almost in front of us
As we walk to the shops
I held back, until told
To ring for an ambulance
You, on the other hand
Rushed to the casualties aid
I failed miserably
With the 999 call
You, on the other hand
Had remained by his side
This man, out joyriding
In his dressing gown
On someone else’s bike
He turned to blasphemy
When more help arrived
Maybe he is addicted
Unable to restrain himself
Perhaps his taste
Was for Buckfast Tonic Wine
Before endangering a suburban street
