I'm lost for words, on this sad day,
Me Electrickerys gone away.
Took the tank off, had the blues,
My wish, that it be just a fuse.
Then tragedy took me, forlorn,
me wires were all frayed and torn.
Suprised to say the very least,
me fine old girls become a beast.
I knew then that I'd do no kays,
me wiring looked like bolognese.
No longer now my pride and joy,
I had no plan, I had no ploy.
I peered about, around the bike,
to find a small part I could like.
About the rotten crumbling mire,
the old bitch must have caught on fire.
And that is why I stand alone,
on side of road upon the phone.
To try and locate some nice chap,
to help me sort my pile of crap.
The stench of burnt out plastic wires,
keeps away potential buyers.
No more this bike gains any flattery,
Buggered wires , Cactus battery.
In days gone by she went so well,
and didn't have this rotten smell.
Then Electrickery took its toll,
me bikes turned bad, the dirty moll.
A real old bitch from hell she is,
the only thing I gets a fizz.
From frazzled lectro conduit,
it really makes me ponder it.
So now I'm in a state, I feel,
I copped this lousy rotten deal.
No fun, no joy of bike be had,
the day my Electrickery went bad.
Marty
