THE CHARGE OF ARTHUR LEGG

Arthur Legg, Arthur Legg
How often I have wondered
As riding proud upon your Harley
Down the motorway you thundered:
Leader of the pack charging behind -
Were they really stupid or just blind?
As riding high upon that Harley
Down the motorway you thundered.

‘Forward boys’ the sign he made
Not one amongst them disobeyed!
He was their leader, called the shots
Even if they thought he’d blundered –
Not one would argue or reply;
Not up to them to ask him why,
They’d follow though they just might die.
Behind him riding on his Harley
Down the old M1 they thundered.

Coppers to the right of them,
Coppers to the left of them,
Coppers on big bikes in front of them
Sirens screamed and car horns thundered;
How many were there, none could tell -
Boldly rode the pack, rode well;
Into the very jaws of Death
Swarmed like black bats out of hell
At speed more than a hundred.

Chrome all a’flash, tattooed arms bare,
Legg’s Harley crashed, shot in the air
To screams and shouts from everywhere;
He charged into gathered forces while
Bikes skidded, fell and were a’sundered:
Plunged into fire and choked by smoke;
Through the police car line they broke;
Suzuki, Triumph, Yamaha
Some laughing wildly at an unknown joke,
Some had stopped; and some rode back
Doing much less than a hundred.

Coppers to the right of them
Firemen to the left of them
Paramedics right behind
Sirens screamed and car horns thundered;
Through gushing water and foam as well;
While riders, bikes, and heroes fell,
Arthur rose high, holding on well
Over bodies laying still in death
In leather those dead bats from Hell,
All that now was left of them
Just twenty; once there’d been a hundred.

What a stir the cortege made!
The shining Harley led the parade
And Arthur’s widow wondered
When would the hurt and memory fade?
How many orphans had been made?
Eighty men gone, out of a hundred.