Bill,
you were a friend of mine, a gentleman indeed
On your two -wheeled steed,
did you ever cry?
Did you laugh at our pettiness,
with your pump and tyre tight?
You left us with a bump in the
night
Bill was hard to understand, a language of his own,
a man so much alone, a family
He was on to something, his joy was plain to see,
I wish he could have passed it on to me
Bill had no funeral,
he's just a ghost today
His pump was his tombstone,
they threw his
buckled bicycle away.
The little town closed ranks,
the constable was wise.
The driver drowns his sorrows
when he turns out the light,
he still hears the bump in the night.
Drinkin' are the brandy boys
and pourin' are the beer
After all he was a simpleton,
was he really here?
Plant him in the limestone
with his little bag of gear
Keep his pump, that's okay,
just throw his buckled bi cycle away
A vivid boyhood memory,
I can't forget the day
This will be his epitaph,
They threw his buckled bicycle away.
I threw his boggled bicycle away
you