A Tale of Bad Habits (Ike’s Tale)
I used to smoke a little weed,
I could roll a joint nice and tight,
I occasionally did some other deeds
To help me make it through the night.
I gave that stuff up a long time ago,
Haven’t touched it for many a year.
I’m certainly not a teetotaler though,
I still like to knock back a few beers.
My beer, I like served with a strong shot back
I’m of the dark beer and micro-brew school.
And nothing washes down a shot of Black Jack
Like a pint of Montana Moose Drool.
I know my limits, and when I’m on my bike,
I know when to put it to bed,
‘Cause riding my Harley is what I like,
And that’s hard to do when you’re dead.
Or worse, you could end up alive, sort of
but not able to ride your bike
Let me tell you the tale of a “bro” that I love
Let me tell the sad story of Ike.
Now Ike had a fine old chopped panhead
On which he’d done all the work,
He had a sweet wife, two rowdy kids,
But his brother-in-law was a jerk.
One night that jerk pushed Ike to far,
He stormed out and jumped on his sled,
He rolled on down to a good biker bar.
started tossing back J.W. Red.
He finally quit,and he went for the door
But before he staggered outside,
I said, ” Old friend, you know the score.
Why don’t you let me call you a ride?”
He ignored me of course, roared off on his sled
And he soon put that pan in a slide.
When they reached him at first, they thought he was dead
But Ike is tough, tough enough to survive.
But he’ll never ride again, they say,
Ike’s been in a wheelchair all Summer.
His bike, his sweet wife just gave it away
to the brother-in- law, ain’t that a bummer.
copyright 2007 Bill “uglicoyote” Davis