By Francis Stratford (21/4/1921 - 28/3/2007)

Where’s Johnny Rudge of yesteryear,
Micky Jones and pints of beer,
Fantastic Jim of Velo fame,
Mind the bridge here’s Charlie Payne.

Ollie Beak with Sunbeam Large,
A dynamo that did not charge,
Up the M1 he did toil,
Alas he finds there is no oil!

On looking down did find,
Fate to him had not been kind,
For no plug was in the sump,
Miles away from the nearest pump.

The village plumber he did con,
To supply the missing hexagon,
But when it happened yet again,
Borrowed one from a toilet drain.

You’ve heard of Bonce and Mougel too,
Of roundabout and Velo new,
A buckled wheel, A foggy day,
Hammer it out and ride away.

There’s Mervyn John the vintage man,
Who’s bikes are always spick and span,
With gearbox dry and mainshaft bent,
Gets a lift from a kindly Gent.

John Coles a chap you ought to know,
Keeps a Cammy just for show,
With engine snug in bed,
Instead of out in his cold damp shed.

Dick the choc from the Milky Way,
Falls in the vat so they throw it away,
His Bonneville was a super gem,
Now he’s on the A.J. again.

Alan Keen of mighty meat,
Spread across his dual seat,
50 waist and great big feet,
Is there any more to eat?

Huck the hound with house so new,
Over to Prestwood daily flew,
Car or bike he knew not which,
Moving went without a hitch.

Mick Pusey gets a sponsors name,
Will it bring him cash and fame?
He’s also now a 50 man,
Find the bike if you can!

 There’s Mick the Neal with combo flash,
Which he says he bought for cash,
He graduates from caravan,
And goes to join the council clan.


Curly was a Dommie fan,
Tried the races but also ran,
All his cash went down the pan,
Had bags of trouble with his van.

He tried to be the King of Brands,
Left his bike in Charlie’s hands,
Now he’s watching from the stands,
Bad luck Clifford Curtis.

Once we knew a lad called Chad,
Who’s episodes the Judge called bad,
Three months said he without a doubt,
But never mind he’ll soon be out.

Mick Jones, A budding sidecar man,
Built a bike to a definite plan,
Everything went well no doubt,
Till he came to get it out.

For alas to his dismay,
He found the house was in the way,
But with four men strong and true,
Tipped her up and she came through.

Mougel is the scholar bright,
Swotted his ‘A’s all through the night,
The spark eroder he has made,
Puts the others in the shade.

A Saturday burn up to the Bee,
To look at Norma and drink the tea,
A friendly brush with P.C. Mahone,
Who’s fast becoming like Al Capone.

Now the Bee has had to close,
Where to go no one knows,
Sampling beer in every bar,
Don’t crunch up Jim’s Dad’s car.

Now my tale is nearly done,
We’ve had some laughs, we’ve had some fun,
If anyone has been left out,
It is my fault without a doubt.

Best of luck to all the lads,
Brothers, Sisters, Mums and Dads,
Good racing too in ’69,
Lets hope the weather will be fine.

Here’s a toast to Uncle Bert,
Roaring bike and mini skirt,
The Isle of Man, The long straight road,
Don’t forget the Highway Code!


© F.A./R.E. Stratford 1968-2010