Half a k, half a k,
Half a k onward,
In the doorzone of Death
Rode the six stubborn.
“Forward, the Light Brevet!
Charge for the buns!” they said.
Following the sharrow of Death
Rode the six stubborn.
“Forward, the Light Brevet!”
Was there not a resident dismayed?
Even as the cycler knew
Everyone had blundered.
Cars will not make us cry,
Cars will not bleed us dry,
Cars but to dodge or die.
Taking the lane of Death
Rode the six stubborn.
Trucks to right of them,
Cars to left of them,
Parked in front of them
Lobbying and hounding;
Swerved at with shout and yell,
Boldly they rode, and well,
Around the Jaws of Life, and
Through the mouth of hell
Rode the six stubborn.
Flashing their LEDs bright,
Splashed as they rode the night.
Flanking the runners there,
Charging a battery, while
All car culture floundered.
Plugged in to bananas,
Right through congestion they broke;
Truckie and driver
Reeled from the pedal stroke,
Stalled and stranded.
Then they rode back, but not,
Not the six stubborn.
Trucks to right of them,
Cars to left of them,
Speeding car behind them
Revving and honking;
Swerved at with shout and yell,
While iron horse and hero fell.
The zealots had fought so well
Calling for helmet freedom,
Back along the streets of hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six stubborn.
When will more cycleways be had?
O the wild jerseys of plaid!
All car culture floundered.
Honour their charges! They’re mad!
Honour the Light Brevet,
Noble six stubborn!
Rest in peace Brent Norriss.
