His Triumph Motorcycle Stood Bold & Brave
- ONCE LONG ago, locked in a shed,
- Was a great Trumpy, very near dead.
- Bruised and battered, feeling forlorn,
- For her Master she did yearn.
- At the same time in a place far away,
- A young man was dreaming of the day,
- When he and his steed of steel,
- Would once again, freedom, feel.
- So without delay, a ticket he did buy,
- A first class, one way berth,
- For his bike on the fastest train,
- From Sydney to Perth.
- At last the waiting was ended,
- Everyone thanked for services rendered.
- Time to take her off the train,
- And home to make her look like new again.
- Into the workshop she did go,
- Pieces of her flying to and fro,
- Outer shell taken off piece by piece,
- Some dipped in oil, others packed with grease.
- When she was stripped and laid all to bare,
- Time to see which parts needed repair.
- Not willing to seal her fate,
- She was shipped to specialists all over the state.
- Slowly the pieces filtered back home,
- Her motor all like new with the shining chrome.
- Why! You could hardly tell,
- That these here parts had been through hell.
- After many hours spent working in all sorts of weather,
- She was finally assembled, completely together.
- Who would have thought that just a while back,
- This gleaming steed was a broken down hack.
- There she stood, bold and brave,
- In her shiny new coat of lacquer and glaze,
- Paintwork performed by her master himself.
- He hadn’t lost his touch, though his gun was left on the shelf.
- And if you’ve never seen a man beam with pride,
- Just be there when Doc takes his very first ride,
- I’m sure you’ll find in those sparkling eyes,
- A tear or two, as there was in mine.
For David ‘Doc’ Somerville: 13 February 1961—13 December 1997: We won’t forget you.
Article by Lee Crawfird
