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My Ole Lady
There we were, going through life just ridin free.
Astride my old scooter, my Ole Lady and me.
We rode through some sun and the strange darkness of night.
But, all and all, my Ole Lady and I had it about right.
We’d laugh and we’d talk and sometimes we played.
Man, she was mine, just like her tat displayed.
She might flirt with a Bro at some biker bar.
But because she was mine, it never went far.
A younger hardbody, no doubt that was true.
But, still my Ole Lady was a fact that I knew.
Then, in a sense I got stabbed with her shiv.
She says “like dude, now, you got no place to live”.
Now, wounded pretty good and gasping for air.
I’m thinking, Damn, maybe, she still has to care.
Maybe I could change and not be so hardcore.
Maybe there’s a chance I could still win this war.
Patching my wounds and trying to survive
Hangin’ in there till I rode by her drive.
There it sat, gleaming, another Bro’s ride.
Yep, my Ole Lady killed me and I ain’t even died.
By Biker Jer
www.bikerjer.com
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jerry@sawinski.com
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