Concert Items

REMEDIAL CAMPER courtesy Maria Lacey

It’s many years since I’ve been camping

But I really don’t know why

The person who last borrowed my tent

Did not return the fly.

Lucky for me, Des has the knack

Of solving problems – he’s sharp –

Over the top of my naked tent

Des secured a tarp.

Soon I realised I’d left at home

My sleeping bag, cutlery and crockery,

My mattress refused to be inflated;

The start was looking quite rock…ery.

Karen helped out with the mattress

While Pauline covered the rest.

I slept all night and woke in the morning

To Ballarat covered in mist.

The ride began and we made our way

To Ballarat’s Skipton Rail Trail.

We pedalled away in single file’

Some at the head, some at the tail.

Off we headed along the trail

Until Linton where we all had a stop,

Then continued on to Skipton

Where we bought out the whole shop.

Our final stretch of Tuesday’s ride,

The Lismore road we took

Until we’d ridden 100 Ks

And landed at Lake Tooliorook.

Unsealed roads and strong headwinds

Rattled our bums and our bones.

Downhill we headed for the van and lunch

And Margit fell down on the stones.

Mortlake provided a welcome haven

At the end of a little lane.

Rising up in the morning

We started our ride in the rain.

Most of the riders evaded the traffic,

The cars and the trucks giving toots.

Lucky we three had a map reader

As we travelled an alternative route.

Tower Hill attracted some riders

Who saw emus, koalas and a snake,

While others ended the first section of the ride

Glad of the three day break.

Port Fairy has been a welcome stop

Despite some thunder and rain.

Now I thank and farewell all of you

While I head off to the train.

Concert Songs, courtesy of Janice

Des (Ohbahdeohblahdah)

Desmond has a bike that is black and blue

He rides it at a very steady pace

When he’s going downhill he smiles at you

But on the uphills there’s a grimace on his face

There’s nothing that can stop him having fun

A cold beer awaits him at the finish

He’s strong and he’s solid and he does the sums

Hires vans and sees to our provisions.

Paul (Puff the Magic Dragon)

Paul the magical rider

Lives by the sea

And often enough he rides off

Leaving Tim and the menagerie

Paul the magical rider

Studies maps and keys

He’s easy to spot with his panniers

Loaded with noodles and other debris

Paul the magical rider

He’s been everywhere

We love to have him ride with us

He’s warm, funny and rides with flair.

One day it will happen 

To Paul and all of us

Our bikes will stay out in the shed

And we’ll be on the bus.

But until that time comes

We’ll ride as if we’re Paul

Setting off in high spirits

Riding one and all.

Brenda (Love Me Tender)

Ride on Brenda

Ride on girl

You’ll reach our camp today

You’ll have ridden here and there

And we will watch you go.

Ride on Brenda

Ride on girl

You’ll reach our camp today

You’ll have ridden up and down

And we will watch you go.

Karen (Snoopy vs the Red Baron)

Out on her bike

In the left lane

Karen White Smith was her name

Many of us cried and a few of us tried

To catch her as she rode through the countryside.

Two, three, four and maybe many more

Tried to catch her to equal the score

But Karen White Smith was far too strong

And for us the road was always too long

Karen White Smith was her name

Riding a bike was her particular fame.

Sally (Mustang Sally)

Biker Sally

Guess who just rode their bike around

Biker Sally

Guess who’d better slow your bike right down

You been riding all over town now gal

Wow! Guess you better put your feet back on the ground.

All you wanna do is ride around Sally

Ride Sally ride

One of these early mornings

I’m gunna ride right along your side.

THE CREMATION OF LADY AL….  with due respect to Robert Service, courtesy Sally, Karen and Brenda

There are strange things done in the midday sun by the men who moiled for gold

Australia’s trails have their secret tales that would make your blood run cold.

The Southern lights have seen queer sights but the greatest they ever did say

Was that night in the stick shed Murtoa we cremated our lady AL.

Now Lady Al was from Idaho, known for ice and snow and potato.

Why she left that state to roam round the south, God only knows.

She liked the cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold her like a spell.

Though she’d often say, in her homesick way, ‘good grief, I’d sooner live in hell!’

Now Lady A. liked her Chardonnay, her beef, her chicken and ham,

But for dinner that night, there’d been olives and lamb.

She’d been complaining all day of stomach pain

 and her pallor was awful grey.

It was Valentine’s day, we were cycling our way over Victoria’s trails.

Talk of the heat! Through our jerseys it seeped.

If our mouths we’d open the flies we’d inhale,

It was hardest of all on our tough Lady Al.

And that very night as we lay packed tight in our tents at the caravan park,

The cyclists fed, and the stars how they sparked; 

She turned to Des and says “I’ll cash in this trip I guess,

And if I do, I’m asking that you don’t refuse my last request.

Well she seemed so low that we couldn’t say no, then she says with a sort of moan,

“It’s the cursed heat, that’s got me beat, I’m sweating clean through to the bone.

Yet ‘taint being dead - it’s my awful dread of the dusty grave that pains.

So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you’ll cremate my last remains.”

A pals last need is a thing to heed so we swore we would not fail

And we started on at the streak of dawn, but God she looked a ghastly pale.

She crouched on the bike and she raved all day of her home in the USA

And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of our Lady A.

There wasn’t a breath in that land of death, and we hurried horror driven

With a corpse half hid that we couldn’t get rid, because of a promise given

It was stashed in the van and it seemed to say “You may tax your brawn and brains,

But you promised true, and it’s up to you to cremate these last remains.

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.

In the days to come, though our lips were dumb, in our hearts how we cursed that load.

In the long long night, by the BBQ light, with the bikers round in a ring,

We howled out our woes to the homeless skies – O God! How we loathed the thing!

The Janice called “Halt! We must do a reroute! So we put it to the crew, to see what to do.

Said Michael to me “but this is how it must be” Then Garis piped in “She’s meat now, ain’t she?”

“This is true says Dale, but what do we do?” She’s not likely to fit in the Esky”

For more advice we looked around, but no one was to be found. Where the hell is Paul?

So every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow

And on we went, though our legs were spent and the grub was getting low;

The trail was bad and we felt half mad, but swore we would not give in.

And we’d often sing to the hateful thing and it hearkened with a grin.

Til we came to the town of Murtoa and a stick shed there did lay

It was made of dry wood and we saw in a trice, that it was even full of hay!

We looked at it and thought a bit and looked at our odorous chum!

Then “Here” said we, with heartfelt glee, “is our crematorium”.

Some poles we tore from the stick shed floor and we lit a roaring fire

Some coal we found that was lying around and we heaped the fuel higher

The flames just soared and like a furnace roared, such a blaze for our cycling pal

Then we burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and stuffed in our Lady Al.

Then we rode our bikes, for we didn’t lie to hear her sizzle so

The heavens scowled, and the kookaburras howled and the wind began to blow.

It was bloody hot but we felt quite chilled, we really don’t know why;

Perhaps it was the grief we felt, that wouldn’t let us cry.

We do not know how long in the heat we wrestled with grisly fear.

But the stars came out and they danced about, ere again we ventured near.

We were sick with dread, but we bravely said, “we’ll just take a peep inside”

We guess she’s cooked and its time we looked…then the door we opened wide.

And there sat Al, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the fires roar,

She wore a smile you could see for a mile and she said “please close the door, 

In here it’s fine, please pass the wine, 

Since I left my home in the USA all I’ve been wanting is my Chardonnay!”

There are strange things done in the midday sun by the men who moiled for gold

Australia’s trails have their secret tales that would make your blood run cold.

The Southern nights have seen queer sights but the queerest they ever did say

Was that night in the stick shed Murtoa where we cremated our Lady Al!

A Dance - Venn Diagram of Riders

Solo Riders

Al – Odyssey

Paul – C2CP, SA, Europe, Australia

Michael – C2CP, SA, Europe, Himalayas

Karen – C2CP

	Des	Janic	Al	Garis	Kare	Paul	Sally	Dale	Bren	Mich
OE 08		x	x	x	x	X
AR 10		x				x	X
COB 12	x	x		x	x		X
S2S 13		x								x
C2CP					x	x				x
Asia 17					x		x		x
LAB Duck 18	x	x	x		x	x				x
Vicmania 20	x	x	x	x	x	x	x	x	x	x