The Lycra Gods Of Cycledom

By Tony Balone on January 28, 2011 in Sport

The Lycra Gods of Cycledom
Descend the Earth in packs;
With kevlar crown and sponsored shirt
And backpack full of snacks.

Some people call them wankers
While others say they’re mad;
Lycra Gods think they’re the best
Which is absolutely sad.

The Lycra Gods ride metal steeds
With traffic they will duel;
On shaven legs with pants so tight
That show the family jewels.

Strip him down to skin and bone
And put him with the herd;
It’s plain for everyone to see
He’s just a peddling nerd.

The Lycra Gods ride like the wind
To reach their sacred site;
A coffee shop in Surry hills
Sells coffee, cake and sprite.

Look at me, look at me
They want to say and ride;
But when mere mortals see them
They just want to run and hide.

The Lycra Gods have no fear
Of people, car nor bus;
Crossing lanes, traffic lights
Everything’s no fuss.

They want to win, they must come first
Or shame will fall on them;
But in their puny brains forget
That they are only men.