Wreck of the Cracker Fitzgerald

Welshy's been a little puny with the poetic lowdown lately so I hereby submit an ode to todays ride, which was windy, cool/cold, and heavily trafficatin'.

The Wreck of the Cracker Fitzgerald

From the Coosaw on down to the Port Royal Sound
Past the Broad and mighty Chechessee
A long cycle ride, Ill take it in stride
I've trained a lot since joining BT

Past the Parris Island gate where Woodie always waits
cause I'm thinkin of arty and close air
When a long haired hippie type on a bike with straight pipes
Come's roarin on past out of nowhere

The miles roll on past when a whelp on my *** says "man are you tryin' to kill me"
A roid gets mad as so do the nads as they're pleadin' for new Pearl Ozumi's

In a pocket by my spine, a cell phone rings 29 times, it's my wife sayin "where the hell you been?"
"Your supper is cold and your bs is gettin' old, just stick to your fishin and sailin"

In the lowcountry it's said all the necks there are red with pickups and music a blarin
And a bike ridin man better watch where he stands when it's bike shoes and spandex he's wearin

It's often been said, the fastest bikes here are red when the gales of the islands are blowin
And there's nothing quite like that astonishing site of a bike dude with mooseknuckle showin
(big finish) OF A BIKE DUDE WITH MOOSEKNUCKLE SHOWIN'

Thank you, thank you very much.